


Things Go Wrong (No Matter What I Do)

by ForeverWhelmed



Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: DCU, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Abuse, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Assault, Begging, Blindfolds, Blood, Bloodplay, Burns, Cages, Choking, Chronic Pain, Claustrophobia, Cock Warming, Collars, Creampie, Crying, Drowning, Duct Tape, Electrocution, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Repressed, Evil Slade Wilson, Face-Fucking, Facials, Fire, Flashbacks, Force-Feeding, Fucking Machines, Gags, Guilt, Gun Oil as Lube, Gunplay, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, Immobility, Inappropriate Use of Guns, Isolation, Knifeplay, M/M, Manhandling, Manipulation, Mental Breakdown, Mindfuck, Multiple Orgasms, No Lube, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Nudity, Overstimulation, Paddling, Panic Attacks, Paralysis, Past Sexual Assault, Pining, Power Imbalance, Predicament Bondage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Riding Crops, Rope Bondage, Scars, Sensory Deprivation, Sleep Deprivation, Spanking, Trauma, Trust Issues, Victim Blaming, Wax Play, bullets in places they don't belong, have I mentioned that Slade is evil?, only without the comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 31,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26764594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverWhelmed/pseuds/ForeverWhelmed
Summary: Haunted by his own actions, Dick finds himself caught in Deathstroke's web. And now that Slade has him back, he's going to push his little bird until he breaks for good.It's Whumptober. Let's make some characters suffer.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951312
Comments: 107
Kudos: 186





	1. Waking Up Restrained

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Waking Up Restrained

Dick realized something was wrong the second he rubbed his eyes. Correction, the second that he tried to rub his eyes and couldn’t. It took him another second to blink away the sleep from his eyes and pull himself back to consciousness, and from there it was another second to process the cuffs stretching him out across the bed.

Dick yanked, pulling as hard as he could to try and get something to come lose, but the restraint didn’t budge. That wasn’t good. Also not good was the fact that Dick was pretty damn sure he was forgetting something important, but with the way his head was pounding and his back was protesting being stretched out, he had no idea what it was.

Dick pulled again, testing the cuffs on his legs along with the ones circling his wrists and he was a little more terrified than he cared to admit that there was no give whatsoever. Usually Dick had something, and even that tiny amount of slack was enough to make him feel like he had some control, some hope of weaseling his way out. But this…

He was helpless. He was tied down, buck naked in an unfamiliar room and he was going to stay that way until someone let him out. His pulse picked up and he took in a shaky breath, forcing himself to stay calm. Panicking wouldn’t fix anything.

The door opened and Dick inhaled sharply, his breath catching in his throat as his stomach plummeted through the floor. Forget not panicking.

“Slade.” Dick growled, pretending that his voice wasn't shaking. Praying that he wouldn’t hear the fear. “What the hell is going on? Where am I?!”

“Good morning.” Slade replied casually as he strode over to the bed, fingers trailing gently down Dick’s chest, over his bare stomach and down even further. Dick stiffened when Slade’s palm settled on the inside of his thigh. Slade’s thumb stroked over his pubes before his hand dipped lower, reaching down to fondle Dick’s balls before wrapping firmly around his cock. “What’s the matter? Not happy to see me?”

“Let me go.” Dick spat, forcing himself to breathe while cruel amusement sparked in Slade’s eye. Slade’s hand moved, stroking down Dick’s length and Dick flinched violently, shivers of terror running up his spine while Slade laughed at the response. He’d had nightmares about this exact moment; memories that had turned into fodder for years’ worth of night terrors and countless bouts of sleep paralysis.

“That’s not how things work, little bird.” Slade crooned. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten how you got here.”

Dick winced, and Slade’s hand stilled while his eye widened in delight.

“Oh. You have, haven’t you? You don’t have a clue what’s going on in that pathetic little brain of yours.” The hand around his cock was gone but there was immediately a strong grip on his chin that forced Dick to look right at Slade. “Allow me to remind you. Your boyfriend got the hell away from you; he couldn’t stand the sight of you after what you did to him.”

Dick’s eyes widened, horror flooding over him as nausea churned in his stomach. Denial sprung to his lips, but the words unlocked something in his brain and the unwanted memories, the horrible knowledge of what he’d done, came flooding back to him.

“No.” He said, lip quivering as his eyes filled with tears. The look on M’s face was all he could think about, the rage and the disgust at what Dick had done. He’d stormed out of the door and hadn’t look back, not even once. “No, no, no, no, no. You’re wrong! Let me go, Slade! Let me go.”

“There’s no one left for you, Dick. You know it as well as I do; you’ve always been poison.”

“No.” Dick meant for it to come out strong and forceful; instead it came out as a desperate plea.

“You knew it last night when you came crawling back to me, begging me to fix you.” Slade’s hand dropped away from his face before sliding up his bare arms, all the way to the cuff on his wrist. Slade squeezed and the pressure built until Dick had to grind his teeth together and breathe through his nose to push through the pain. Slade released him suddenly, pressing a gentle kiss to his still-throbbing wrist. “I’m just doing what you asked me to.”

“Don’t do this.” Dick begged. There was something else rising in his chest along with the rapid beat of his heart, and it pushed against the guilt and the horror at what he’d done. Slade smirked at him, and suddenly all Dick felt was terror.

“You’re mine, little bird. All mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, the suffering begins. Stay tuned, I have a month's worth of pain and suffering planned out for this poor man, I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.


	2. Collars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Collars

“You must be hungry.” Slade’s hand stroked his cheek gently and Dick tensed, forcing himself not to flinch or jerk away even as the touch sent goosebumps down his spine. The bruises littering his face were a testament to what happened when he tried to get away even when Slade tied him down so tightly he could barely move.

At some point in the night, Slade had released him from the cuffs, but Dick’s wrists still ached. The welts dug into him, red and angry against his tanned skin. But the pain in his limbs was nothing compared to the ache in his back or the way his ass throbbed from Slade’s assault. Slade’s hand seized him by his hair suddenly, tugging harshly. Dick let out a cry as Slade yanked him up to a seated position, his other hand digging into his chin.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Slade ordered, holding Dick’s head close enough that the heat from his breath washed over his face. Dick’s heart pounded, his eyes going wide as he tried his hardest to nod. Slade scowled, displeasure darkening his face in a way that promised pain. Dick’s heart skipped a beat and he braced himself. “You’re just a stupid little bitch, aren’t you? Luckily, I have something planned for that.”

Before Dick could respond, Slade shoved him roughly off the bed. Dick scrambled to his feet almost as soon as he’d hit the ground, wincing when the movement made the pain in his ass worse. Slade was pushing open the door on the other side of the room before he could even attempt to brace for a fight.

“Let’s go.”

Dick followed Slade through the halls, heart pounding like he was expecting Slade to turn and pounce on him at any time, but instead Slade led him to a brightly lit kitchen, with plenty of windows letting in natural light and letting Dick see the expanse of fields that stretched out for miles with nothing else in sight.

Dick froze in the doorway, watching as Slade put a covered dish down on the table. He didn’t trust any part of this. If this wasn’t a trap, if there was real, edible food under that cover, Dick would… well, he didn’t know what he would do, but it seemed like a moot point. The too-casual lean as Slade rested against the counter, arms crossed over his chest with a small, expectant smirk on his face spelled nothing but trouble.

“Are you hungry?” Slade asked sweetly, the gentle voice sending tremors straight through him.

Dick swallowed the lump in his throat, hands clenching into fists like that might save him somehow.

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask how you were,” Slade reprimanded him, his pleasant tone never wavering. “I asked if you were hungry.”

“Is that food?” Dick shot back. Slade smirked and Dick’s legs almost gave out at the confirmation that he definitely did not want to find out what was under the lid.

“Why don’t you go find out?”

“I’ll pass.” Dick turned to leave before he could lose his nerve. Slade grabbed him by the elbow as soon as he reached the door.

“I don’t think so, little bird. You’re not leaving here until you’ve eaten. Never let it be said that I don’t take good care of my things.”

Dick ripped his arm away, trying and failing to push down the panic. Slade let him, but before he could take more than a step, Slade’s hand tightened around his wrist instead.

“I’m not your thing, Slade.” Dick glared down at the hold on his wrist, debating his chances if he tried to fight. Slade chuckled, effortlessly tugging him closer.

“Don’t be silly.” Slade’s hand carded through Dick’s hair ever-so-gently before the grip turned painful. “Of course, if you’re really not hungry, I can bend you over the table and breed you like a little bitch.”

Slade pressed a kiss into Dick’s neck before Dick could protest, his teeth worrying over the skin and his tongue flicking out, sending Dick’s pulse skyrocketing. He tried to pull away but Slade’s grip was unyielding, holding him in place as the teeth bit down harder and Dick yelped.

“Stop! Don’t, please—I’ll…” He cut off as Slade yanked his head back to get a better angle before licking a long line up his throat. Slade stopped, holding Dick at that awkward angle and regarding him with a cruel smile.

“Last chance, little bird. Are you hungry?”

“Yes!” Dick said desperately. Slade released him immediately and Dick felt a smidge of hope rising in his chest.

“Then you’d better go see what’s on your plate.”

Dick glanced desperately back at the door, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Any choice, in fact. Ignoring how badly his hands were trembling, he walked over to the table and carefully lifted the cover off the plate.

“No!” Dick recoiled as soon as he saw what it was, whirling around to find Slade standing right behind him. Slade grabbed the back of his neck, ripping the metal cover out of his hand before Dick could even try to whack him with it.

“What’s the matter, little bird? Don’t like the color?”

As a matter of fact, Dick did not like the color. At all. It was bad enough that the leather collar was black and orange without the silver letters that spelled out “Bitch” in the center.

“I’m not wearing that!”

The hand on his neck pushed, forcing him down and pressing his face roughly into the table. Dick shouted, struggling and fighting for leverage but Slade held him down easily with one hand. Slade’s other hand reached for the collar, letting the silver buckles drag along Dick’s cheek.

“Just be grateful I’m not making you put it on yourself.” Slade crooned, slipping the band around Dick’s neck and grabbing both ends in his hand. “Now, I need two hands to fasten this. When I let you up, you can be a good little bitch and hold still for me, or I can choke you until your face turns blue and fuck your tight ass until you pass out. Are you going to be a good bitch?”

Dick felt a tear drip down the side of his face, the grain from the wood still digging into his other cheek. Slade tugged on the collar warningly and Dick panicked as his breath was cut off. He nodded frantically in tiny, jerking motions.

“Say it. Tell me you’ll be a good little bitch.”

Dick inhaled sharply, his hands clenching uselessly into fists.

“I…I’ll be a good little bitch.” He squeezed his eyes shut, just praying that Slade wouldn’t make this any worse.

“There’s a good boy.” Slade crooned, releasing the hand on his neck to stroke Dick’s bare back. Dick forced himself to hold still while Slade tightened the leather and buckled it, tears dripping down his face. He heard the final click as Slade attached a small padlock, before Slade’s lips pressed against the collar. “That’s much better, isn’t it? You look like the bitch you really are.”

Slade released him and Dick’s hands flew up, running his fingers over the smooth leather and the bumpy letters while horror twisted in his stomach. Slade collared him, like a dog. Like a pet. Like Dick was his.

Without Slade's hands on him, the the world finally had a chance to right itself and Dick came crashing back to reality.

What was he doing? How had he even ended up here? He was naked and alone while Slade marked him as HIS, just like before. But this time there was no threat hanging over his head, no promise to kill his friends if Dick disobeyed. The guilt from what he'd done was still so fresh in his mind, weighing him down like a thousand anchors on his soul, but he should NEVER have come back to Slade. He needed to get out of here. Now.

Dick turned around, heart pounding in his chest as he glared at Slade, fury and rage and years and years of trauma and hatred bubbling to the surface.

“Take it off.” Dick growled, meeting Slade’s eye and refusing to be intimidated. “I’m not yours and you **can’t** keep me here.”

“On your knees.” Slade ordered. Dick met his gaze calmly.

“No.”

Slade lashed out, too fast for Dick to follow. One hand wrapped around his neck and squeezed until Dick saw stars, a foot sweeping out to knock Dick’s legs out from under him. Slade slammed Dick down onto his knees and held him down. Dick grabbed at Slade’s arm, trying to wrench himself free, but he couldn’t stop Slade from forcing his head back to attach the collar to an eye bolt drilled into one of the legs of the table.

Slade released him and Dick gasped for air, grabbing at the collar to loosen the chokehold it had on him. The collar was pinned in place, immobilized by the heavy clamp connecting it to the sturdy table. And at this angle, Dick had to hold himself up on his knees to breathe without the collar choking him, his back arched with all the pressure concentrating in his thighs. The floor was freezing against his bare skin and there was nothing protecting his knees from the hard tiles.

Dick’s hands pulled and tugged and scrambled at the fastener, but he couldn’t yank the collar free from the bolt. Slade grinned, watching him struggle until Dick finally accepted the fact that he couldn’t get loose.

“Good boy.” Slade praised as Dick pushed his hands against the ground, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his legs and neck.

“Let me go!” Dick snarled, spit flying from his mouth. Slade just laughed as he disappeared from Dick’s view. Dick tried to turn his head, but the leather of the collar dug into his throat so hard it burned and he had to give up.

“I know it’s been a long time, little bird, so I’ll excuse your disobedience just this once.” Slade said as he set something down on the table with a clink. He pulled out the chair closest to Dick before sitting down, his legs stretched out on either side of him so Dick was at eye-level with Slade’s crotch. He swallowed nervously, leaning as far back as he could.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t very far.

“You said you were hungry, didn’t you little bird? Open up.” Slade leaned toward him, bring a spoonful of oatmeal down to Dick’s mouth.

“Slade, what the hell?!” Dick grabbed Slade’s wrist with both hands before it could get any closer.

“Hands down.” Slade warned. “Or do I need to take them away from you?”

“I’m not letting you feed me!” Dick snapped, knocking away the spoon before Slade could bring it any closer.

“What did I tell you, bitch?” Slade backhanded Dick across the face, snapping his head to the side as his cheek exploded with white-hot pain. The collar dug into the soft flesh under his chin and Dick let out a choked gargle as his back spasmed from the unnatural angle. While the world was still spinning, Slade grabbed Dick’s wrists and forced them behind the leg of the table he was chained to. Dick tried to yank himself free, but Slade easily finished securing his hands.

"Let me out!" Dick shouted again, desperately pulling on his bound hands but whatever Slade had done, they weren't budging.

“If you don’t want oatmeal, let’s try something else.” Slade reached for something on the table, just out of Dick’s view. “As I recall, you like cantaloupe, don’t you?”

Slade’s hand reached down, holding out a little piece of fruit between three fingers. Dick went cross-eyed as Slade brought it up to his mouth, keeping his jaw pressed tightly together.

“You’ll eat this way or not at all, little bird.” Slade crooned. “And you’re not leaving until you’ve finished.”

Dick took a deep breath through his nose, legs and back and shoulders and core burning from the strain of being stuck in such an awkward position, and he slowly opened his mouth, glaring at Slade the entire time. Slade pushed his hand forward, shoving the fruit inside Dick’s mouth and holding it there patiently until Dick’s jaw burned so badly that he couldn’t hold it open anymore and had to close his mouth around Slade’s fingers. Slade let go of the melon, dragging his fingers out slowly and forcing Dick to suck on them or risk drool and fruit spilling onto the floor. The entire time, Slade’s hungry gaze was locked onto Dick’s face, enjoying every second of Dick’s torment. When Slade’s hand was finally out, Dick chewed the piece of fruit and swallowed as quickly as he could, not wanting it in his mouth for any longer than it had to be.

“I didn’t realize you were that hungry, but far be it from me to let you suffer.” Slade grinned, and the look on his face sent ice shooting into Dick’s stomach. “Open up.”

“I—no—” Dick tried to say, but Slade seized the opportunity and the instant Dick opened his mouth, Slade shoved an entire handful of cantaloupe inside. Dick reeled back, slamming his head against the corner of the table, but Slade was faster. He was always faster. One enormous hand locked onto Dick’s chin, pushing up and slamming his mouth closed.

“Swallow.”

Dick let out a frantic whine, trying to make a sound around the fruit, but it was jammed together so tightly that his cheeks bulged and his tongue was pressed against the bottom of his mouth and he nearly gagged on it all.

“I said, swallow.” Slade ordered, pinching Dick’s nose while the hand over his mouth sealed it shut. Dick choked around the chunks of fruit in his mouth, desperately thrashing as he tried to get the pieces down. Dick was shaking by the time he managed to swallow it all, his lungs burning and his head pounding from the lack of air. Slade let go and Dick gasped, pulling on his hands to keep himself upright so he didn’t choke himself all over again on the collar pinning him to the table. His arms shook from the effort and Slade chuckled at the sight.

“You look so good like this, little bird. Maybe I should keep you right here so I can look at you whenever I want. Or maybe I should find a little birdcage for you to sing in." Slade ran a finger across the collar, tracing over the letters as Dick caught his breath. Slade smirked at him, running his eyes up and down Dick's quivering body. "Although, I’m not sure I could find one small enough for such a tiny little bitch like you. What do you think?”

Slade punctuated the question by holding out another piece of fruit, and Dick choked back a sob, trembling as he forced himself to open his mouth.

“That’s the right answer,” Slade praised, dragging a finger that was sticky with melon juice across Dick’s lips. “Good boy.”


	3. Manhandled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Manhandled

“What exactly do you think you’re doing in here?” Slade’s voice was smooth as silk, but the cold look in his eye made Dick’s mouth dry up. Dick tried to swallow, nervously taking a step back.

“I… I was hoping I could use the gym.” With full weight of Slade’s attention on him, Dick couldn’t look the man in the eye. Slade had finally allowed him clothes after two days of nudity, but the way Slade was watching him, he might as well not have been wearing anything.

“You want to train?” Slade asked.

Dick didn’t owe him an explanation, and Slade didn’t seem to be asking for one, so Dick nodded.

A slow smirk spread across Slade’s face and something froze in the pit of Dick’s stomach. That smile meant trouble, the kind Dick was going to hate.

“I think that’s an excellent idea. In fact, let’s get you trained right now.”

“Wait, Slade, no I—” Dick protested, but Slade caught up to him even as he scrambled back, hooking his finger into the collar and yanking Dick forward. Dick choked, hands flying up to relieve the pressure around his throat.

“Let go!” Dick yelped, slamming his fist into Slade’s shoulders. He knew how hard he could hit, but Slade didn’t even flinch at the blows. Slade’s hand, the one that wasn’t holding Dick in place by the collar around his throat, caught Dick’s wrist before he could hit Slade again. Slade’s grip was tight but the thumb that gently stroked circles into Dick’s pulse point was as soft as a feather.

“Oh, little bird. You know better than that.”

Dick’s heart pounded, and from the way Slade’s smirk widened, he could feel the frantic beat under his finger.

“Let me go, Slade. Please.”

“Now why would I do that when there’s so much you still need to learn?” Slade tugged on the collar hard enough to pull a choked sound from Dick’s throat. “You’re just a disobedient little bitch who needs to learn how to behave.”

Slade pulled until Dick had to scramble on his toes to keep his balance, the collar constricting around his windpipe.

“Luckily, you have me to teach you.” Slade pressed a kiss into Dick’s jaw while he gasped for breath, clawing at Slade’s shoulder to try and push himself up and loosen the grip on his throat. A thunderclap echoed through the air, pain exploding across Dick’s face as Slade slapped him. “Say thank you, bitch.”

“…thank…you…” Dick forced out.

Slade dropped his grip, giving Dick a few seconds to gasp in as much air as he could manage before pulling him tightly against his chest and trapping Dick’s arms between the two of them.

“Much better.” Slade praised, the hand on Dick’s collar moving to cup the back of his neck, while the other hand dropped to Dick’s ass. Dick stiffened as fingers kneaded into the muscle, but Slade wasn’t hurting him. As long as he held still, Slade wouldn’t—

A finger pressed against his still-aching rim and Dick jerked, letting out a choked groan as the pain flared up again.

“Hold still, bitch.” Slade growled, the hand around his neck tightening. Dick squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head fall against Slade’s shoulder as the finger kept working at him. It would hurt more if he fought. It always did. If he just stayed still and took it until Slade was done, he—

Slade hand yanked his pants down and that was the only warning he had before the finger pushed inside him, forcing its way past the raw, aching muscle and a searing pain ripped through him.

“Fuck!” Dick shouted, writhing in Slade’s grip as pain wracked his abused hole. “Don’t! Slade, don’t, please! Stop!”

Slade grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet his eye as a second finger joined the first. The digits pressed in slowly, dragging out the agony as they pushed aside aching muscle. Dick writhed, his hands clawing at Slade’s shirt in a desperate attempt to anchor himself against the onslaught of pain.

“You don’t get to say no to me, little bird.” Slade’s voice was low and dangerous as his enormous, dry fingers pressed in and out in a steady rhythm. “You should be grateful I’m letting you stay here at all.”

Dick groaned at a particularly brutal thrust, biting down on his lip so hard he tasted blood.

“Nobody else wants you, Dick. You’ve brought them nothing but pain, you’ve ruined everything you’ve ever touched. Everyone you’ve ever loved. They don’t care that you’re gone, in fact, they couldn’t be happier to finally be rid of you. Not even your own father wanted you.”

Dick froze, veins turning to ice even as tears started to drip down his face. He wanted Slade to be lying, he wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but M never wanted anything to do with him ever again. And he deserved it. He deserved all of it. Dick had… he’d…. he’d raped his boyfriend, choking down his cock to give Slade a show even while M shouted at him to stop, begged him not to do it. Dick was poison and this was what he deserved.

“I suppose he’s not really your father, after all, he never adopted you. All the other brats, but never you. Maybe he never wanted you that way, maybe he only ever wanted your body. Of course, he must have known how poisonous you are, how you destroy everything around you.”

Dick screamed as Slade ripped his fingers out roughly only to ram back in with four fingers instead of two.

“It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic. Your body is the only part of your worth anything and Wayne didn’t even want that much." Dick nearly bit his tongue in half, clawing at Slade's chest in desperation, needing something to hold on to as Slade ripped him apart. "Now I’m going to bend you over a rack and fuck you, and you’re going to take it like a good little slut.”

Slade wrenched his fingers out and the cold air was a relief against the burn in his gaping asshole. Slade grabbed his arms, yanking them behind his back and holding them there in a vice-like grip. Dick struggled as Slade dragged him across the floor before throwing him over a bench so hard it knocked the wind out of him.

Dick gasped for air while Slade pressed him down into the bench with the hand holding his arms still, helpless to stop him from shoving his legs apart or pushing him further onto the bench so his feet didn’t touch the ground, taking away all his leverage.

He struggled, writhing and twisting, the discomfort of having his cock trapped underneath him adding onto the fire burning in his ass.

“Struggle all you want, little bird. It’s not going to change anything.” Slade brought his hand down on Dick’s ass and he rocked forward at the force of the blow, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut at the pain. “You’re going to take whatever I want to do to you, and you’re going to be grateful for it. Because if you're not, I will throw you back out into the world where no one wants you. Do you understand?"

Tears flowed freely, dripping down Dick's face and landing in small puddles on the gym's floor. Slade was telling the truth; no one wanted him. No one would ever want anything to do with him once they knew what he'd done and the thought of facing their rejection, facing everyone's rejection--

Slade's hand slammed into his ass again, the blow sending sharp pain all the way thorough his already sore and abused body and Dick couldn't stop himself from crying out.

"Do you understand?" Slade demanded. The memory from a few days ago crashed into Dick, taking over everything and sending a new wave of tears down his face.

_"I don't want want to see you again." M spat, glaring at Dick like he was a pile of dog shit on the side of the road. "Not now, not ever."_

Dick nodded, tears pouring down his face. 

"Good." Slade lined up, the tip of his cock pressing against Dick's hole and Dick trembled. "Now what do you say?"

Dick dug his fingers into the underside of the bench, clawing at the foam to anchor himself for the agony that was about to come.

"Thank you." Dick whispered.


	4. Caged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Caged
> 
> I think this is the worst one yet XD. (I'd leave a longer note but SOMEBODY is actively yelling at me to post this already) Enjoy!

Dick was yanked from sleep by the hand in hair, his eyes flying open to see Slade scowling at him. His heart pounded at the displeasure on the other man’s face, while his body ached from the “training” session in the gym the day before. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dick tried very hard not to think about the fact that he was quickly becoming used to waking up in pain.

“Get up.” Slade spat, but there was a reassuring lack of heat behind the words. Dick scrambled to his feet, trying to blink away sleep and get his bearings, but the instant he was out of Slade’s bed, the man hooked a hand into the collar around his throat and began to drag him out of the room.

Dick tried his best to keep up so that he was walking of his own accord instead of being dragged by his neck, but if Slade appreciated it, he didn’t show it. The older man hadn’t so much as glanced at him since the not-so-pleasant wakeup call.

Honestly, Dick wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing or not.

It wasn’t until they passed through one of the doors that was usually locked that Dick worked up the nervous courage to break the silence.

“Slade, what… what’s going on?”

“I have a work call coming in soon.” Slade answered, his voice sounding almost pleasant. Dick had no idea how that related to the fact that he was being dragged buck naked through the entire safehouse, and that stoked his fears like tinder on hot embers.

“I… I don’t…”

Slade stopped in front of a door Dick had never seen before, looking back at Dick with an amused smile on his face. Dick shivered but forced himself to hold still in Slade’s grasp.

“I have work to do, little bird.” Slade said gently, his fingers gently caressing the skin above the collar, gently stroking his throat. Dick shook in his grip, but he didn’t know if the tremors were from the gentle tickle or pure terror at what Slade had planned for him. “And I can’t do concentrate if I have to keep an eye on you.”

Slade pushed open the door, revealing a large and brightly lit office. Dick’s eyes scanned over the space, taking in the massive oak desk, the neatly labeled filing cabinets, the bookshelves covered in expensive-looking reference books and encyclopedias and classic literature, the framed maps covering most of the walls, and the enormous computer monitors. That would’ve all been fine if it wasn’t for the dog crate sitting innocuously underneath the desk.

“Slade—” Dick recoiled in horror, but he couldn’t get far.

“It turns out, they do make birdcages in your size.” Slade pressed a kiss to his ear, his eye shining with cruel amusement at the look of horror on Dick’s face. He pushed Dick into the room, closing the door behind them with an ominous click.

Dick’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the crate. Slade couldn’t be serious; the thought of being crammed into the tiny cage, locked inside with no room to move until Slade decided to let him out again… he could barely breathe just thinking about it.

“Slade… Slade, please don’t. I’ll be good, I won’t make any trouble.”

“Good.” Slade praised him, watching with that same sadistic look in his eye. “Then I’ll give you a chance to get in on your own.”

Dick’s mouth dried up, his heart racing while his lungs forgot how to take in air.

“I can’t.” Dick shook his head, backing up against the wall without realizing he’d even moved. He felt wetness on his cheeks as he realized that no matter what he said, no matter how hard he begged, he was going to end up inside the crate. “Slade please, I can’t, it’s too small, I’m… I’ll…”

“It’s just for a few hours, little bird.”

Hours?!

“Please!” Dick begged. “I can’t! Please!”

Slade crossed the room in a few steps, fingers closing around the back of Dick’s neck. Dick shook, frozen in place while tears dripped down his face.

“What, little bird,” Slade began, wiping a finger across Dick’s cheek to swipe away a tear, “did I tell you about saying no to me?”

Dick sagged in Slade’s grip, tears freely flowing down his face. Slade hand came up to stroke Dick’s hair while he shushed him.

“There, there. That’s a good little bitch.” Slade dragged him forward, toward the desk and the crate underneath it, and something snapped. Dick’s heart pounded with every step, his head spinning and suddenly there was nothing but sheer, unadulterated panic. He thrashed in Slade’s grip, clawing and striking out blindly as he shouted, “No! Don’t! Slade, don’t! NO!”

He heard Slade laughing, the sound splitting him apart at his very core. The crate was open now, and Slade’s foot was on the back of his legs, forcing him to his knees while the hands in his hair and around his wrists pushed him lower. Dick screamed as Slade forced him inside, the cold metal digging into his bare skin, the walls of the cage too close, too small, so horribly confined that Dick couldn’t breathe. Slade pushed his legs in, forcing Dick to curl up so his knees pressed into his chest, his right arm pinned uncomfortably between his body and the metal bars. The cage was small enough that the metal dug into his shoulders, holding him in place so he couldn’t turn over or readjust to a more comfortable position.

He heard a panting sound and it took his frantic brain far too long to realize he was hyperventilating, crying and shaking as the bars bit into his skin from all sides.

There was the sound of something clicking before something heavy thumped against the side of the cage, and Dick slowly processed the fact that Slade had padlocked the cage shut.

“That’s much better, don’t you think.” Slade fingers pressed through the bars, stroking Dick’s back soothingly. Dick flinched, the touch sending goosebumps down his spine because he couldn’t move, couldn’t get free, couldn’t do anything. “Hush now, little bird. I need quiet to concentrate, and you don’t want to upset me by being loud, do you?”

Dick squeezed his eyes shut, trying his hardest to stifle his sobs even as tears poured down his face. He heard wheels rolling on the hardwood floor, and then the sound of Slade sitting in chair and settling in front of the monitors.

He could do this. Just a few hours and Slade would let him out. He just had to stay quiet and not panic while he couldn’t move, even though the bars digging into his skin already hurt, and he was quickly losing feeling in the arm trapped underneath him.

Dick let out a yelp as Slade kicked the crate, causing his head to slam against the bars while the metal bit in even deeper into his skin. Slade laughed sadistically, the sound filling Dick with panic all over again.

“There’s a good bitch.” Slade said.


	5. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Rescue
> 
> Don't get your hopes up ;)

“I’m going to get you out of here.” Midnighter promised the woman in his arms, simultaneously focusing on the way she tearfully clung to his chest and calculating the route with the simplest, least bloody escape from the complex, and doing everything in his power not to think about the fact that those words might have been fresh in his mind, but they hadn’t come from him.

_“It’s going to be okay, M.” Dick had promised, those perfect hands caressing his face lovingly while he’d inspected him for injuries. “I’m going to get you out of here.”_

Midnighter growled, forcing the memories out of his head and pulling himself back to the present. Fires were burning all around them and he had a civilian to save.

They needed to talk, but M wasn’t ready. Dick was staying away just like he told him to, keeping his distance which meant M was going to have to be the bigger person and reach out first. He just wasn’t ready.

He knew Dick just wanted to keep him safe but what he did… that wasn’t Dick’s choice to make. Things would never be the same between them, not after Dick violated the trust between them.

M almost wished that Dick wasn’t as good of a detective as he was, that he wasn’t so incredible at what he did. Because if he’d never tracked down Deathstroke, if he’d never come for M, neither of them would have ever been in that position.

The worst part was that as angry as M was at Dick, he was angrier at himself for it. Midnighter was the one who’d fucked up, who’d been beaten and captured by Deathstroke. It was his own fault and no one else’s for getting caught in the trap. And Dick was such a perfect fucking hero, such a sweet, wonderful, selfless person who could never abandon someone he cared about. As soon as Deathstroke appeared, Midnighter had known that Dick would do anything to save him. Whatever it took.

Midnighter wished he could just stop caring, push the anger and the hurt aside and be grateful that Dick came to save him, that he loved him so much he would do whatever it took to keep him safe. M knew how badly it had hurt him, he’d seen the guilt in every single line of Dick’s face, the disgust and horror and determination. And he knew Dick had tried to be as gentle as he could, desperately careful not to cause M any more pain even as Deathstroke brutalized him.

He’d been hurt. Dick had been in so much pain, desperately trying to hide how much it hurt.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t hide it any more than Midnighter could push his own pain away. He wanted to forgive him, to summon a Door to take him to Dick’s apartment, grab him in his arms and hold him close. But he just… couldn’t.

They had to talk someday. But not yet. M needed more time.


	6. "No More" and "Stop it, please"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: "No More" and "Stop it, please"
> 
> Alternative title: How to Make a Pretty Bird Sing

The world had become very small. There was nothing but friction and heat, the feeling of the sheets pressed into his face, and the coarse ropes binding his wrists to his ankles and his elbows to his knees, keeping him open and spread for Slade as he pounded into him.

Slade came with a roar, finger gouging into Dick’s hips as he emptied his seed into Dick’s ass. Pain erupted as his nails drew blood, and Dick knew that there were more bruises blossoming over his skin, joining the already mottled and beaten flesh. Dick forced himself to breathe, burrowing his face even deeper into the soft fabric as Slade rode out his second orgasm of the night.

Dick had already come once just from the friction of Slade pounding into him, but this wasn’t about Dick at all. Slade had taken his time preparing him, opening him up with gentle fingers and enough lube that he barely felt any discomfort, let alone the usual pain.

It was clear that Slade was on a mission, taking a few seconds to stroke himself up again before lining up his tip against Dick’s swollen hole. Dick bit back a curse, squeezing his ankles to try and ground himself as Slade pressed in again. He knew Slade’s refractory period was short, but this was ridiculous. How much more could he possibly have in him?

“You look so good like this, little bird. Tied up just for me. Maybe I should keep you like this, make sure you can’t cause any more problems.”

Slade changed the angle, hitting Dick’s prostate with immaculate precision. Dick moaned, feeling the blood rush back into his cock.

“Don’t hold back,” Slade taunted. “I want to hear you sing, little bird.”

The pace picked up and Slade slammed against his prostate with every single thrust until Dick felt his orgasm building, his cock hard and dripping against his stomach. Dick groaned, panting and moaning and straining in his bonds until he was shaking, incoherent sounds falling from his lips.

“Come for me.” Slade ordered, his voice commanding and somehow so fucking in-control for the way that Dick was a quivering mess underneath him. Dick came, whiting out as the orgasm overtook him. Slade kept going, fucking him and dragging the climax out through wave after wave of pleasure.

When Dick came back to himself, his body felt like jelly and his mind was buzzing in post-orgasm bliss. It only Slade a few more thrusts until he came for the third time, holding him still as he rode it out. With a final slap of his ass, Slade pulled out. Dick winced at the mess of hot cum dripping out of him in sharp contrast to the cool air against his hole. The last bit of tension in Dick's limbs slid away as he relaxed into the mattress, relieved that it was finally over.

“You look so good like this, all filled up with my cum.” Slade praised, his hand running across Dick’s bruised ass. Dick closed his eyes and waited. Any second now, Slade would climb off the bed to grab a towel to clean him off with. If he was feeling generous, he’d untie him. If he wasn’t, he’d be back with a plug to keep him stuffed full all night. “You were so good for me, little bird. Did you enjoy yourself?”

Dick let out a breath, empty and completely exhausted. It was over, all he had to do now was wait for Slade to be done with him.

A finger stroked across his cheek and Dick shivered, body straining against the ropes.

“You’ve been quiet tonight. It’s not like you.” Slade’s voice taunted as his hand dragged along the curve of Dick’s back. “I want to make you feel good, how can I do that if I don’t know what you want?”

Dick squeezed his eyes shut, the words making his stomach curl into ice. Slade was going to make him beg to be let out, if he even let him out at all. Dick took another breath and if he had anything left inside, he might have laughed at the fact that dignity had gone out the window the instant Dick had let Slade put a collar around his neck.

“…please,” was all Dick managed to say. Slade’s hand paused, the broad palm too warm against his sweat-soaked skin.

“That’s what you want?” Amusement flowed out of Slade’s voice, washing over Dick until he was drowning. “You want more, you little bitch?”

Dick’s heart skipped a beat before his brain caught up. Then his pulse really skyrocketed.

“I—please, Slade, please let me out, please!”

“You’re just a desperate little slut, aren’t you? I thought I’d filled you up enough and yet here you are, begging me for more.”

“No! Slade, please!” Panic blossomed in his chest as slick fingers pressed up against his hole, digging into his aching rim and sending a flare of pain up Dick’s spine. Dick pulled against the ropes, but all his thrashing did was bury his face even deeper into the pillows.

“That’s a good bitch, sing for me and I’ll make you feel good just like you want.”

Dick managed to hold himself together as Slade pushed into him again, but when Slade moved back, cock dragging against his walls, desperation took over. Slade set an agonizingly slow pace, somehow managing to slam against Dick’s prostate with every thrust, sending conflicting sparks through him that should have been pleasure but instead were setting his nerves on fire. Dick writhed against the ropes binding him in place, tears leaking out of his eyes as Slade’s relentless pace just. Kept. Going.

“I thought I told you to sing for me, little bird.” Slade’s voice sounded so far away and somehow so deafeningly loud at the same time, punctuating his words by reaching around to stroke Dick’s cock. Dick keened, a choked whimper escaping his throat as his sensitive skin blistered at the touch; his entire body was trembling, thrashing uncontrollably as his skin crawled from the inside out, and the steady rhythm of Slade stabbing in and out of him had pushed him out of his own mind.

Dick’s legs shook from the strain, his inner thighs screaming from being folded in half for so long. His fingernails dug into his calves, desperately grasping for something to hold on to, something to take his mind off the way Slade pounded into him, too much, too fast, too slow, too hard, too soft: it was all too much.

“Stop!” Dick sobbed, clawing at his ankles hard enough to draw blood, but even that sting wasn’t enough to distract him from the overwhelming sensations he was drowning in. Tears poured down his face and his chest heaved but he still couldn’t get enough air in. “Please!”

“That’s a good bitch.” Slade praised, slamming home and Dick screamed, tears pouring down his face as Slade took his pleasure. It felt like a thousand years of torment before Slade finally came again, and Dick writhed, helpless to the feeling of knives clawing into his skin, pain and pleasure so intense they were indistinguishable from agony stabbing through him.

When Slade finally pulled out, Dick slumped, sobbing into the pillow as exhaustion mixed with relief. It was over. It was finally over.

“So good.” Slade praised. Dick couldn’t stop himself from crying as his body trembled through the aftershock; but it was finally over. Slade’s lips ghosted over his back, pressing a kiss against Dick’s spine and the gentle touch made Dick scream, writhing and whimpering as his nerves blazed in agony. Slade chuckled and the sound filled Dick with terror.

“Oh, little bird, when you sing so beautifully for me,” Slade crooned, fingers stroking along Dick’s rim, “How could I resist another round?”

“No!” Dick sobbed, struggling weakly to try and close his legs but Slade held him open effortlessly. “Please! Please, no more!”


	7. Carrying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Carrying

Dick tensed when Slade sat on the other end of the couch, dropping his book and already halfway to his feet when Slade glanced over at him.

“Don’t get up on my account,” Slade said easily before turning his attention to the tablet in his hands. Dick’s heart pounded and his muscles seized; it wasn’t the tone of voice Slade usually ordered him around with, but if it was supposed to be an order and Dick didn’t listen…

He was back down on the couch before he could finish the thought. He slowly reached for his book, trying as hard as he could not to draw attention to himself as Slade relaxed on the couch. One of Slade’s arms was draped over the back of the couch and his fingers suddenly brushed against Dick’s shoulder.

Dick shivered, freezing in place.

Was that a warning??

Slade didn’t look over and after Dick’s heart stopping pounding like a jackhammer, he picked up the book and settled back against the cushions. They stayed like that for a while, Slade reading from his tablet and Dick pretending to read as he tried to get himself to breathe.

“You’re quiet today.” Slade mused without looking up.

“I—” Dick cut himself off, suddenly unsure if Slade wanted him to answer or not. But Slade turned when he stopped, looking at him with a curious, almost pleasant expression on his face that made him think he should continue. “I’m just tired.”

It was true. Dick woke up with his body aching in ways he’d never felt before (which considering all the various injuries and crazy situations he’d gotten into as a hero, was definitely saying something), and he was exhausted all the way to his core. He wanted to roll over and go back to sleep forever, but Slade had dragged him up for breakfast way too early. And Dick definitely knew better than to complain.

The corner of Slade’s mouth quirked up, and not in a mean way. It was almost… gentle. He shifted over before patting his thigh once.

“Put your head down.” Slade said. Dick’s stomach did a triple backflip but he forced himself to put his book down on the coffee table, pulling his legs up to the couch as he lowered his head onto Slade’s lap.

Slade’s hand settled in his hair and Dick flinched violently. If Slade noticed it—and it would have been impossible for him not to—he ignored it, instead stroking Dick’s hair gently. It felt so nice; soft and gentle and soothing and Dick couldn’t help the spike of terror that ran through him. Slade didn’t do nice, and Dick didn’t have any chance of fighting back when the gentle hand turned painful.

After a tense minute, Dick slowly felt himself relax under Slade’s hand. Slade read from his tablet, his hand softly stroking Dick’s hair, and Dick felt his eyes flutter shut. It was… it was nice. Slowly, Dick let himself breathe, let himself enjoy the gentle touch and let himself drift off in the way he desperately wanted to.

“Your family seems to be doing well.” Slade said. Dick’s eyes flew open but the hand in his hair kept its steady rhythm. “Your boyfriend was in Cairo yesterday. He’s certainly been keeping busy.”

Slade’s hand stilled in his hair, and then Dick’s chin was being tilted up so he had to meet Slade’s eye. “He hasn’t tried to contact you. Not once. You’ve had some messages from your brothers, a few from the Gordon girl, and the demon brat sent you a few photographs of his cat, but nothing else.”

Dick winced, trying to pull away but the grip wouldn’t let him move. Or look away from the concerned, pitying look on Slade’s face that sent a pang all the way through him.

“It’s funny. None of them seem concerned that you haven’t responded. It seems you’ve made quite a habit of dropping off the face of the Earth. I’m surprised at you, Dick. I never took you for the type to turn your back on your loved ones so easily, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Dick gasped sharply, trying to come up with a response but his stomach turned over and Slade’s hand pressed over his mouth before he could do more than part his lips.

“Was that your plan all along?” Slade asked, his thumb rubbing across Dick’s cheek. Dick trembled, helpless to do anything but let the words gut him. “Pretend to be the perfect big brother, get them to trust you and admire you and adore you just so you have someone to miss you when you want to run and hide from the world?”

Dick flinched.

“All those smiles, the laughter and the jokes, it’s all just a smokescreen so that nobody see what a scared, lonely little boy you really are?”

Dick felt a tear slide down his face, tickling unpleasantly as it dripped off his nose and onto the back of Slade’s hand. He tried to pull away but his body missed the message, trembling on Slade’s lap as Slade looked down at him in loving, gentle, concerned pity that made Dick nauseous all the way to his core.

“That’s all you ever wanted, isn’t it, little bird? To be loved? I know how much it’s hurt you over the years; the rejection, the blame, the way everyone relies on you until they don’t like what you do. You know why it keeps happening, don’t you? It’s because you always let them down.”

After the first tear fell, it was like a dam broke. Everything he’d done when his family thought he was dead, his work for Spyral, the lies and the deceit on top of the horror of the fact that he’d actually died; Luthor had stopped his heart and had literally taken his life in his hands, and Dick couldn’t even go to his family for comfort because they had to think he was still dead.

Even after that nightmare was over, it had taken so long for his family to forgive him that he’d been terrified they never would. That he’d be paying for Bruce’s secrecy for the rest of his life.

And finally, things started to get better. M tracked him down to Bludhaven, came back into his life after Dick had been convinced he’d never see him again, and maybe he wasn’t the only reason that things started to get better but with M by his side, Dick had been ready to deal with anything else. Everything else. For the first time in… for the first time since the Titans, it wasn’t Dick’s job to fix everything on his own. It was…

It was the happiest Dick had been in years. And Dick had ruined it. Dick had lit the match and sent the best relationship he would ever have up in flames.

A spike ran through his chest, guilt as sharp as a blade stabbing through him so hard it hurt, slicing open that gouge in his soul that had been there ever since his parents’ death had ripped him to pieces. And as much as that had hurt, he couldn’t imagine any pain worse than this. The void in his chest was screaming, guilt and self-hatred flooding through him until there was nothing else left. Dick couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t control the desperate, gasping sobs coming from his mouth.

“Shh, little bird. I’ve got you.” Slade whispered soothingly. Dick felt strong arms scoop him up, pulling him into Slade’s chest. Dick buried his head into Slade’s shirt, tears pouring down his face. Slade’s arm curved around Dick’s back, his hand rubbing gentle circles over Dick’s stomach.

Dick couldn’t stop crying, guilt and pain and loss pouring down his face in hot, salty tears. He felt Slade moving, something in the back of his mind following the fact that Slade was heading for the bedroom, but Dick didn't care either way. There was nothing but grief and guilt at all the horrible things he'd done and how steep the price had been. Slade set him down on the bed, the soft mattress pressing into his back and Dick sobbed harder at the loss of the hands holding him; he was falling apart and Slade’s touch had been the only thing holding him together.

“Shh… I’m here. I’m right here, little bird.” Slade’s hands were back, running down Dick’s suddenly bare legs and the knot that had once been his stomach loosened the tiniest bit at the contact. Slade had him. Dick could sob his broken heart out and Slade wasn’t going anywhere.

“Shh, that’s it, little bird.” Slade crooned, shushing him as the head of his cock lined up against Dick’s still-aching hole. “I’ve got you.”


	8. Isolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Isolation

Slade growled, teeth biting Dick’s lip hard enough to draw blood. His hand groped Dick’s ass, nails digging into the bruised skin until Dick couldn't hold back a whimper. Dick didn’t have time process the fact that Slade’s mouth had moved away before a hand connected with his cheek, pain spreading like fire across his face. Slade shoved him through a doorway and Dick stumbled, somehow keeping himself from falling over despite the way his head was ringing.

“We’re going to have some fun today, little bird.” Slade gloated, slamming the door behind them with a crash loud enough to rattle Dick’s jaw. A hand closed around the collar, yanking him backwards by his throat. Dick’s hands flew up to relieve the pressure and Slade laughed before pulling even harder.

Dick choked desperately as the leather dug into the underside of his chin, cutting off his airway completely. Slade’s hand snaked under his shirt, stroking over his abs before slipping into his pants and wrapping around his cock. “I’ve got a surprise, just for you.”

Slade released the hold on his collar and Dick gasped for breath, his body stuck trembling as Slade’s hand moved over his cock and blood rushed into it. The relief lasted for less than a second, because almost as soon as Slade let go of the collar he was wrapping his hand around the front of Dick’s throat. His massive fingers dug into his neck, curling up to squeeze his chin. Even as he choked, Dick could feel the bruises blooming across his skin. Dick grabbed at Slade’s hand in desperation, lungs burning while his head spun from the lack of air, and in response, Slade tightened his grip on Dick’s cock until it was agonizing.

“Hands down.” Slade ordered.

Dick tried, he really did, but his vision was turning blurry and his chest was on fire and his body trembled and every part of him screamed for air. Soon Dick was thrashing and clawing to try and wrench himself free, but Slade’s grip didn’t loosen for even a second.

“Stupid little bitch,” Slade growled as Dick struggled in his arms. “You need to learn some obedience. Tell me you’re sorry.”

Dick’s chest fluttered as he choked, hanging weakly in Slade’s grip. His head spun and his lungs burned and his heart pounded so hard it felt like being stabbed in the chest.

“Pathetic.” Slade spat, releasing Dick’s throat and Dick desperately choked for air, barely processing the room around him. A hand forced his head down so he was staring at a breeding bench in the center of the room, with straps hanging down to the ground and cuffs ready to immobilize his wrists and ankles and knees. Dick’s heart leaped into his throat, panic flaring up again as his brain caught up to what was about to happen. “Do you know what this is, little bird? This is what you get for disobeying me.”

“No—Slade, please!” Dick tried to pull himself loose, the idea of being so thoroughly restrained filling him with terror. Slade slammed him down on the bench, forcing all the air out of Dick’s lungs. Nails dug into his back, breaking through the skin as Slade held him down, wrapping one of the straps around his back and fastening it to the underside of the bench.

“Let me go!” Dick screamed in a blind panic, thrashing desperately as Slade tugged off his pants, leaving him exposed and naked.

“Shut up, you stupid bitch.” Slade’s hand spanked his ass hard enough to leave a print behind and Dick couldn’t fight back a shout of pain. Slade easily cuffed his ankles down and strapped his calves to the bench. Something in Dick’s chest crumbled as the acceptance set in; he was trapped and Slade was furious at him for disobeying.

“I’m going to whip you raw until you can’t scream anymore,” Slade growled, ripping off his shirt before grabbing Dick’s wrist and digging his nails in. When Slade tightened the cuffs around his wrists, they dug in so hard Dick could feel his circulation being cut off and he whimpered before he could stop himself.

There was a clinking sound as Slade dragged a chain up from the bottom rail and attached it to the loop on Dick’s collar. Dick could still move his head, but not very far. And that was the only thing he could move. Besides a tiny bit of room around his hips, everything else was strapped down, pulled so tightly against the bench that Dick was going to carry the welts on his skin for a week.

It didn’t stop Dick from trying to pull himself free even though he knew it was useless.

“How do you feel, little bird? All tied down for me, so pretty and still. So helpless.”

“Slade, please!” Dick begged, struggling. “Don’t—”

“Don’t? You don’t want me to hurt you, little bird, is that it?” Slade mocked. He dragged another strap over Dick’s back, tightening it so his pelvis was frozen in place. Slade smacked his ass and Dick grunted in pain, squeezing his eyes shut to brace himself. “You don’t want me to hurt you like that? Or maybe you’d prefer I don’t use this?”

Despite himself, Dick cracked an eye open to see Slade holding a wooden paddle, smacking it against his palm. The sound made Dick shiver, trying not to think about how much it was going to hurt.

“Please…” Dick whimpered, fear settling in his stomach like a rock.

The paddle landed on Dick’s ass and he shouted; the pain was a sharp sting on top of the already bruised and aching skin.

“Sing for me, little bird.” Slade’s voice sounded like a demon, and another crack filled the air. Dick arched as the paddle slammed against his ass, trying to get away from the pain and forced to stay in place. It wasn't long before Dick lost track of how many times Slade rained down blows on him, never stopping his tirade. “I’m going to beat you until you can’t scream anymore, and then I’m going to fuck you like the bitch you are.”

“Please!” Dick begged, his voice hoarse from screaming. “Please, Slade, don’t— AGGHH!”

Dick screamed as the paddle landed three times in rapid succession, each strike harder than the last until the pain was all he could think about. His ass was on fire, burning and swollen and Slade was laughing at his agony. He couldn’t understand how he hadn’t broken, how the skin hadn’t split apart with every new hit, and tears were pouring down Dick’s face by the time Slade stopped, tracing over the red and aching skin with the end of the paddle.

“Beautiful.” Slade praised, pressing in against in the skin and making Dick writhe helplessly. “When you look this good, little bird, how could I resist?”

There was a clatter as the paddle was tossed to the side before Dick heard the unmistakable sound of Slade undoing his zipper.

“No!” Dick begged as Slade’s hands closed around his hips. He screamed as Slade’s palm smacked against his ass, voice breaking from the pain.

“What did I tell you about saying that to me, bitch?” Slade growled.

“Please! Don’t, don’t! Slade, please!” Dick shouted, thrashing and pulling at the restrains holding him down as Slade lined up his cock to Dick’s dry, unstretched hole. As badly as his ass burned, Dick knew that he was about to enter an entire new universe of pain.

There was nothing to do but close his eyes, squeeze his hands into useless fists, and hang on as the panic overtook him.

Suddenly, a phone rang.

Dick held his breath when Slade froze, the hands on his ass stilling. Slade huffed, and the next thing Dick knew, there was the sound of a zipper closing as Slade stepped away.

“This shouldn’t take long,” Slade promised, moving around to the front so Dick could see him. He pulled Dick’s chin up, making the chain attached to his collar clink before shoving his tongue into Dick’s mouth for a deep, possessive kiss. When Slade pulled back, Dick’s lip was bleeding and his tongue tasted like Slade. ‘I’ll be right back to make you sing for me all over again.”

Slade looked down at Dick, taking in the way he was completely immobilized against the bench. The corner of his lip ticked up in amusement.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

And with that, he was gone.

The second the door shut behind him, Dick let out a shaky breath, head slumping forward. Relief flooded his body, horrifyingly intense when he knew, he _knew_ , that Slade was going to come back to make good on his promise.

Dick tugged on the cuffs, yanking as hard as he could to try and force the leather straps loose.

He tried for a long time. As tired as he was, as much as he wanted to just lean into his bonds and try to relax until Slade returned, being tied up was far more agonizing than the pain burning on his backside.

Finally, after he pulled a little too hard and his wrist almost snapped, Dick let out a frustrated huff. He looked up at the door, rattling the chain on his collar. Slade had been gone… a long time.

Long enough for the panic to fade, long enough for his heartbeat to slow to its normal pace, and long enough for pins and needles to spread up his limbs.

Dick wanted to go home. He wanted to go back to his apartment where M would be waiting for him, he wanted to lie down in his own bed and cuddle up with M and the fluffy blankets Babs had gotten him as a housewarming present and let himself doze off while M watched the Great British Baking Show, listening to his overpowered brain pick apart every mistake the bakers made.

But no matter how badly he wanted to be somewhere else, to pretend for even a single second that he wasn’t here, he couldn’t distract himself from the straps pinning him in place, the cuffs digging into his wrists and ankles or the chain fastened to the ring on his collar that clinked every time he moved his head.

Dick felt a tear drip down his face as ants crawled over his skin. Even naked, the room was too hot and Dick was sweating, humidity accumulating between his skin and the bench. He hated this, hated the fact that he couldn’t move, hated the uncertainty gnawing at him from the inside out.

How long was Slade going to be on that call? Did he get distracted?

Dick’s stomach curled, a wave of terrified nausea washing over him.

Did Slade forget about him?

He wanted out. He needed out, right now.

“Slade!” Dick shouted, tugging on the straps holding him down but he couldn’t get loose no matter how hard he tried. And he’d been trying as hard as he could, yanking and pulling and thrashing even though his wrists and ankles burned and the straps along his back hard dug in so deep he could feel the edges burning as they split open his skin. The blisters would be brutal in the morning, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was getting loose.

“Please! Slade, please!” He shouted, listening to the hollow echo as it bounced around the room. It was hopeless, Slade was probably nowhere close enough to hear, but it helped to try. To pretend for one second that Dick wasn’t helpless, that if he yelled loud enough (if he begged enough), Slade would come back, apologize for having taken so long and let Dick out.

Dick didn’t even care that Slade coming back meant him making good on his promise, at least with the pain he knew it would end eventually, at least it meant that Slade wanted him, even if it was just to hurt him.

It wasn’t fair! Why did that stupid phone have to go off, why couldn’t Slade have just gotten this over with and let Dick out instead of leaving him here, stuck and tied down and helpless and alone—

No. He couldn’t think about that. He’d go crazy if he started thinking about Slade leaving him tied down to the bench while he went on a job, a dangerous job that he might get hurt on, might not come back from while Dick was trapped and alone and nobody knew where he was, even if they cared enough about him to look and someday they might find his body, bruised and beaten and naked and still tied down for all eternity—

Dick squeezed his eyes shut, fingers digging into the padding as he forced himself to breathe. To think about nothing but moving air in and out of his lungs. In, hold for six seconds, out, and repeat that until….

…until Slade came back.

Dick choked, heart spasming inside his chest. He forced himself to pull in the deepest breath he could, holding it until his lungs were screaming and his head was pounding and he could feel his heartbeat pulsing behind his eyes.

Slade was going to come back. Dick just had to hold on—

Dick just had to be good until Slade came back.


	9. "Run!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: "Run!"
> 
> M is doing great, why do you ask?

“Run!” Midnighter shouted as the explosion rocked the street behind them. Thick, black smoke billowed into the air, darkening the sky as the fire spewed ash and soot but the civilian stayed frozen in place, staring up in terror.

“I said, ru—” M grabbed the man by the arm, yanking to pull him out of the way as a burning storefront collapsed.

And then he saw the man's face.

Dark hair, bright blue eyes—Midnighter stumbled, nearly tripping over himself.

It wasn’t Dick.

Of course it wasn’t. Dick was still keeping his distance, staying away and that was good, because M needed space and he’d asked Dick for it because he wasn’t ready to talk about what happened. And besides, he didn’t need those beautiful blue eyes or that bright, wise-cracking smile or—

_"I'm going to get you out of here." Dick whispered, even as he dropped to his knees, ice cold fingers digging into the waistline of Midnighter's pants. "I promise."_

Focus.

London was burning. Well maybe not all of London, but this one particular street and the building that had just exploded definitely were. M had a job to do. He had civilians to evacuate and a whole lot of ass to kick. He was fine.

Totally fine.

And Dick was fine too.

They were both fine, just two rational adults who needed space before they could talk about what happened.

And besides, Midnighter didn’t need anyone by his side to do his job...

...no matter how lonely it felt without Dick there next to him.


	10. Trail of Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 10: Trail of Blood
> 
> I know it's late, turns out having a full time job makes it hard to keep to a posting schedule but I'm trying my best, leave me alone mom.
> 
> (p.s. if there is a G-d, please never ever ever let my mom find this)

Dick hissed as he pressed the toilet paper in, the sting a little sharper than the burning pain in his ass. The paper came away bloody and Dick’s shoulders sagged. His body hurt in a million different ways and he was so fucking tired but Slade would kill him all over again if he got blood on the sheets.

Dick let the bloodied paper fall out of his hands, joining the small heap already sitting in the trash can. He reached for a new piece and ran it under the faucet; the cool water a balm against the sheen of sweat over his skin.

The door opened suddenly and Dick jumped, whacking his hand on the faucet. Slade smirked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Having trouble?”

“No, it… it’s fine.”

“Are you sure about that?” Slade stepped forward, pulling the wet paper out of his hand. Dick let him, holding still as Slade squeezed the water out and ran it across Dick’s sweat-soaked forehead. “It seems like you’ve made quite a mess on your own.”

Dick swallowed nervously, fighting back a shudder at the feeling of cold water on his face while Slade’s fingers held his chin still.

“I’m sorry.” Dick whispered when his brain caught up to Slade’s last words. Slade’s hand stilled before he tossed the wet paper to the side.

“Of course, if you’re that determined to make a mess, why should I let you have all the fun?”

Dick’s heart leaped into his chest as Slade yanked him forward by the collar, tugging him out of the bathroom and practically throwing him down face-first on the bed. Dick yelped, the sudden movement making his ass burn, but then Slade’s hands were on him, pushing him down into the mattress.

“Hold still, little bird.” Slade voice was low and smooth, filled with cruel amusement as Dick fought back the panic in order to dig his hands into the sheets. Whatever Slade was planning, it would be infinitely worse if Dick made him repeat himself.

He couldn’t stop himself from crying out when two fingers lined up to his rim, fear flooding through him. Slade’s fingers pressed in hard, moving around while Dick writhed and grabbed the bed to brace against the pain. The fingers inside him dug into the shredded muscle and Dick shouted when the pain flared, sharp and fiery.

The hand inside him pulled out suddenly and before Dick had a chance to breathe, Slade dragged slippery fingers across his back. It took Dick a second to process the fact that they were slippery with his blood.

“Slade—” he whimpered, half-pleading and half-exhausted, but Slade just laughed at him. Dick whimpered as Slade pressed back in, breaths coming out in short pants as Slade dug into the ripped tissue.

“Stay still.” Slade reminded him gently, the voice a sharp contrast to the hand that slammed Dick’s head down into the pillow and held him there. The fingers that slid along his back weren’t as sticky this time, and Dick had no idea if that was a good thing or not.

“Oh little bird, you so look so good in red.” Slade’s hands rested on Dick’s hips and he shivered at the feeling of sticky fingers against his skin. Especially when the pads of Slade’s thumbs dug in, pressing much too hard into the sore muscle. It was a relief when the hands released him, right up until Slade said, “In fact, that gives me an idea.”

Dick froze, his heart skipping a beat as something cold and wickedly sharp pressed into his back, right above the base of his spine. Terror flooded through him as Slade pressed in and the blade punctured the skin; if Slade stabbed him there, he’d be paralyzed from the waist down for life.

“Hold still. Unless of course, you _want_ my hand to slip.”

Dick burrowed his fingers into the sheets, forcing himself to hold still with everything he had.

“That’s better, bitch.”

Slade’s fingers dug into the collar, yanking until Dick’s head was forced back, and then the blade pressed against his throat.

“Can you imagine how beautiful you’ll look when I slit your throat? You’ll drown on your own blood. It'll be just slow enough that you’ll feel all the pain, you’ll know exactly what's happening as your life drains out through your scrawny neck.”

Dick trembled, tears leaking down his face. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe, just held still and let Slade press in until it stung, blood beading around the edge of the blade. In a way, it was almost better like this; the terror flooding through him drowned out all the pain, spreading numbness through him along with the uncertainty of what was coming next. Slade didn’t need him. Slade didn’t care about him. Slade could cut his throat as easily as any other and Dick wasn’t stupid enough to think Slade would lose even a second of sleep over it.

“But what a waste that would be.” The knife pulled away as Slade’s finger replaced it, dragging over the skin of his throat in circles that made goosebumps rise behind it. “After all, I’m not finished with you yet. What do you say, little bird?”

Dick shivered, shaking as he dug his hands further into the sheets. Whatever relief he’d been expecting didn’t come; there was just the sinking knowledge that Slade could and would get rid of him the second he didn’t want him anymore. And Dick didn’t know… he didn’t know which was worse. The idea that Slade would get tired of him someday or the idea that Slade wanted him at all.

“Th… thank you.”

“Good boy.” Slade praised before the knife pressed into the side of his arm, just underneath his shoulder. The cut was quick and deep and it burned, but not as much as when Slade dug his fingers into the wound. Dick cried out as Slade pressed in, and when he managed to turn his head to the side he saw blood spilling out, staining the white sheets crimson. Slade’s fingers dragged across his back again, and it took Dick a few seconds to think through the pain and realize he was writing something.

He only had a second to realize the fingers on his back had slowed and brace himself before Slade’s hand dug back into the cut on his arm. Dick whimpered, tears leaking out of his eyes as the throbbing pain in his arm turned into an inferno. When Slade finally pulled away, Dick’s stomach churned, the pain turning into nausea as it sunk in that Slade was using Dick’s blood to trace massive letters onto his skin.

Dick lost track of how long the pattern went on, Slade writing until the blood dried up and going back for more. He just held onto the bed with his left hand, his right hand numb from the pain and the blood loss.

“Perfect,” Slade said after far too long. “Now you look just like the bitch you are.”

Slade traced over the letters and Dick couldn’t help but feel them etched into his brain. He knew exactly what Slade’s handwriting looked like, knew the curves of the letter B and the sharp slant of Slade’s T’s and he could feel the word on his back like Slade had burned it into his skin.

“On second thought… it seems a shame to just let it wash off. After all, you can’t change what you are.” Something sharp dug in to the letter B and Dick’s breath caught as Slade pressed the knife in harder. “What do you think, little bird? Should I make it official? Do you want the world to know what you are?”

“Don’t!” Something in Dick’s brain screamed, breaking through the haze of pain and terror and ignoring the voice shouting at him that telling Slade “no” was the worst thing he could do. “Slade, please! Please don’t!”

Slade laughed, the sound sending Dick’s stomach into knots.

“If you’re sure…” Slade’s hand stroked through Dick’s hair and he flinched at the feeling of sticky, blood-stained fingers combing through his locks. “We’ll save that for another time.”


	11. Struggling and Crying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: Struggling AND Crying
> 
> Warning: This chapter depicts the use of riding crops in a way that is not their intended purpose. Do not attempt this at home.

The crop came down hard and Dick stiffened, a muffled shout escaping his throat. The spikes dug into his wrist and he whimpered, breaths coming out of his nose in short puffs. His lips were stretched wide around the gag in his mouth and he could feel the muscles in his throat shifting around the inflated piece of rubber with every breath he took.

His neck was starting to ache from the strain of having his head titled back, but that was literally the least of his worries. Slade brought the riding crop up, gently tapping over the straining muscles of Dick’s bare abs as it made its way down.

Dick tensed as the crop settled ever-so-gently on his cock, tapping over the skin and making Dick writhe with anticipation while his stomach clenched in fear.

The cut on his arm burned and Dick cried out as Slade snapped the riding crop over it. Pain shot through him, lighting all of his nerves on fire and making it impossible to breathe. He choked on the gag in his throat as he spasmed, reflexively yanking against the ropes holding his wrists in the air. Slade flicked the dial and the Sybian sped up, slamming in and out of him so fast it took his breath away all over again.

The riding crop came down again, whacking against his balls and Dick screamed, but all his frantic struggling did was make the spiked restraints dig into his skin even harder. Sharp pain blazed through his wrists and his ankles and knees and hips on top of the fire burning in his arm and his ass was scorching with pain as the Sybian dragged over the torn, shredded muscles and Slade just kept tapping the crop over his cock and dragging the flat side over his balls.

“That’s it, little bird, let me hear you sing.”

The crop came down and Dick choked on the sound that came out of his mouth, body shaking as the pain shoved him over the edge and he couldn’t hold back the tears. Slade picked up the pace, torturing him with the riding crop until Dick was incoherent, screaming and sobbing through the gag filling his throat while he writhed against the restraints, the pain only intensifying with every movement.

“So beautiful.” Slade said, not pausing for a second as the crop came down again and again and Dick cried, struggling uselessly in his restraints while the Sybian pounded in and out of him because there was nothing else he could do. Slade flicked the dial again and the fucking machine slowed until it was gentle enough for Dick to catch his breath. The riding crop pressed into the bottom of Dick’s chin, forcing his head back even further until he gagged on the inflatable device filling his throat. “I think we should find out how much you can really take…”


	12. Broken Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: Broken Down

The wall hadn’t moved. Neither had Dick. He couldn’t summon up the energy to turn his head or even lie down on the couch, let alone face the idea of getting up and trying to do anything. Somewhere in the back of his head, he processed the footsteps behind him, but the rest of him didn’t care. Dick didn’t budge when Slade’s fingers tangled themselves in his hair, he just braced for the coming discomfort when Slade yanked his head back to get better access to the bruised and aching skin on his neck.

But the fingers stayed gentle, scratching a soothing rhythm into Dick’s scalp.

“I see you’re right where I left you.” Slade sounded amused. “Something wrong, little bird?”

“No sir.” Dick responded automatically, the words falling out like a mechanized response.

The hand in his hair stilled, and Dick held his breath for the pain to start. Instead, Slade moved around to the front of the couch, standing in front of Dick and tilting his chin up with one finger so Dick had to stare up at him. The collar dug into the bruises on his neck and Dick exhaled, trying to breathe out the pain. It didn’t work very well. He didn’t make a sound though; he wasn’t stupid enough to think the pain would stop there.

“Are you lying to me?” Slade’s voice was gentle, amused even, but there was nothing funny about the words themselves. Dick frowned, considering.

Nothing was wrong. Dick was just tired. So very tired, tired in the kind of way that swallowed everything else and left him feeling so completely empty on the inside.

“No sir.” Dick repeated, not resisting Slade’s gaze. There was something on Slade’s face, some swirl of emotions that Dick didn’t even begin to have the energy to try and decipher. Whatever Slade was feeling, whatever he was thinking, it wasn’t any of Dick’s concern. If Slade wanted him to know, he would tell him.

“You can tell me, you know. I want to know everything that’s going on inside that head of yours.”

“…why?” Dick had no idea where the word came from, but once it was out there was no going back. Slade blinked, hand stroking along Dick’s cheek.

“Why do I want to know?”

“I…” Dick swallowed, but everything he wanted to say faded into the numbness consuming him. Instead, what came out was, “You don’t care.”

Slade leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t anything like the dominating kisses Dick was used to, where Slade bit and marked and claimed him with enough force that Dick felt like leaf caught in a hurricane. Instead, it was soft.

Gentle.

All of it, from the hands cupping his face like it was something precious to the steady rhythm of Slade’s pulse to the easy harmony of their tongues moving together. Dick felt himself falling, a wreck in Slade’s arms while the other man was the only thing holding him in one piece.

When Slade pulled back, Dick couldn’t stop the desperate plea that escaped his mouth any more than he could control the terror flooding through him at the thought of having to hold himself together on his own. Slade looked over him, his gaze so intense for the soft, gentle hands still caressing Dick’s cheeks.

“Of course I care, little bird.” Slade made the words sound like an oath.

Dick let out a keening sound, the words underneath garbled and obscured. Slade’s thumb drew soothing circles on his chin.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“Why?” Dick whimpered.

“Why what?”

“Why do you care? I’m… I’m poison.” Dick felt tears drip down his face, and as soon as he started to cry, he couldn’t stop. “I ruin everything. Everyone.”

“Oh, little bird.” Slade shushed him, dropping his face so he could reach down and pull Dick onto his lap. Slade’s strong arms circled him, holding him close. “I won’t let you ruin me. I’m the only one who knows how to handle you.”

Dick sobbed, his head buried in Slade’s chest while Slade’s hand cupped the back of his head, holding him still. His other hand rubbed circles into Dick’s back, soothing and gentle and Dick couldn’t handle it.

He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve gentle, he didn’t deserve Slade holding him close like he mattered. Dick was broken and all he wanted was to break apart into a million pieces and instead Slade was holding him together.

He didn’t want Slade to care, didn’t want comfort from the hands that had spent so long breaking him down into the shattered pieces he deserved to be. But Slade was holding him, soft promises of love muttered into his ear alternating with gentle kisses along his brow.

And Dick…

Dick loved M. He missed him so badly that just thinking of him ached like a knife in the chest. Dick wished M was here, that M was the one holding him and promising him that he would be okay, but it wasn’t him. Dick had… he’d raped the love of his life to save him, turned a deaf ear to M’s shouts, moved with M’s struggling form as he’d taken him down his throat. The thing they’d had was special, the most amazing thing Dick had ever had, and Dick ruined it. He’d sent their relationship up in flames and told himself he was doing the right thing.

Dick loved M and he hurt him so badly it could never be fixed.

Dick didn’t love Slade, but maybe Slade loved him. Maybe it was worth all the pain and the hurt if it meant Dick would never stop being loved, to lean into the knowledge that Slade would never let go of him.

“That’s it, little bird. Let go. I’ve got you.”


	13. Delayed Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 13: Delayed Drowning

The sound of rushing water filled the room, and Dick let the noise soothe him as he rested his head against the bathroom wall. Slade had been almost soft with him since Dick’s breakdown yesterday and Dick knew it wasn’t going to last. That just made him more determined to enjoy the quiet while he could.

Slade shut the tap off, dipping his fingers into the water before wiping them off on a towel. He reached a hand back and Dick took it, letting Slade pull him to his feet and staying pliant as Slade stripped off his clothes. The feeling of Slade’s calloused hands running over his bare skin still made Dick shiver, but the bathroom was warm and Slade was being gentle and he was lowered into the bath before he had time to think about much else.

The water was hot, steam rising off it in lazy patterns and it felt so good over Dick’s aching body that he let out a moan without realizing he’d even opened his mouth. The muscles in his back that had been as tight as rocks finally began to loosen, and even the cut on his arm throbbed a little less.

Slade’s hands moved over him, pouring gentle streams of water down his back and over his chest and on top of his head, rubbing soap over his body and scrubbing away at the grime and dried sweat from the day before.

Dick closed his eyes, leaning back against the back of the tub. He wasn’t quite asleep, but he wasn’t completely awake by the time Slade’s hands massaged shampoo into his hair. The gentle scratching and tugging of hands pulling through his hair, the hot water soaking into his exhausted muscles, even the faint herbal scent of the soap lulled Dick into a deep sense of calm.

“Good, little bird, that’s it. You’re all mine.” Slade’s voice was smooth and steady in the steamy bathroom. It echoed off the tile, the sound soothing in a way Dick couldn’t begin to unravel. “Show me how badly you want to stay with me.”

Slade’s grip tightened on his head and that was the only warning Dick got before Slade shoved his head under. He couldn’t close his mouth in time and water flooded into his mouth and nose. He thrashed, eyes bulging as the water rushing into his nose made him gag. He choked, his lungs and diaphragm desperately trying to expel the water but that just made everything worse. His legs kicked out, trying to propel him to the surface as his hands grabbed for anything he could reach, but he couldn’t pull himself up. Something pushed on the back of his head, forcing him lower and bubbles of precious air fled his mouth.

There was only panic. He thrashed with all his might while his lungs SCREAMED for air, the burning made worse by the pressure in his head and every breath he tried to take just brought in more water. His chest was convulsing and his heart was racing through what little oxygen he had left and his head ached like it was being split open.

Slowly, Dick felt himself stilling, kicks getting weaker as his body shut down. There was panic and terror and desperation and nothing else.

Then Slade yanked his head up, and Dick GASPED, coughing and heaving and hacking to force the water out of his lungs. His stomach clenched violently before he doubled over, some unpleasant mix between water and bile coming out of his mouth.

He lost track of how long he stayed like that, doubled over as he hacked up water with Slade’s hand in his hair holding him up.

“Good, little bird. Just like that. So good.”

* * *

Dick woke up in the middle of the night with the feeling that something was sitting on his chest. He tried to sit up, but his hands were cuffed together to the headboard, stuck on display the way Slade liked him.

Dick felt lightheaded and forced himself to breathe.

Something was wrong.

For one thing, his chest ached when he tried to pull air in. It felt like there was something lodged in his throat that was stopping his lungs from working right, or maybe that was just feeling of something spasming.

Dick tried to take another breath and it hurt. It hurt so badly his diaphragm clenched down on reflex and triggered a violent coughing fit. And once he started coughing, he couldn’t stop.

He coughed until his throat was sore and his lungs ached and his head was spinning, and this time when he tried to breathe, the pain was even worse. The best he could manage was a tiny pull of air.

And suddenly Dick knew exactly what was happening.

He was drowning.

“Slade.” Dick called, in between desperate, gasping breaths. The other man didn’t move, his chest moving up and down in the same steady rhythm. Dick’s chest burned, his lungs aching, and he panicked. “Slade!”

Dick yanked at his wrists, desperately trying to pull himself free but Slade knew all his tricks. He’d made sure that Dick couldn’t get out on his own. And that would be… that would be fine if Slade was awake to let him out, to make sure Dick wasn’t about the choke on his own lungs.

His lungs burned at the thought and Dick’s head throbbed violently, the headache returning with a vengeance. Dick gasped down another lungful of air, panic building in his chest as an idea struck him. A desperate, stupid idea.

His legs were free.

Dick couldn’t even begin to imagine how much trouble he was going to be in for hitting Slade, but if he didn’t get loose, he was going to drown. On dry land.

Desperately, Dick pulled his leg back and slammed it into Slade’s side.

It worked. Slade sat up instantly, bearing down on Dick before the man was fully awake.

“Did you just kick me?” Slade growled, fury pouring off him. Dick opened his mouth, but he could only heave, desperate little gasps of air as his diaphragm spasmed. Slade sat up immediately, a light clicking on as a hand grabbed Dick’s chin, turning him to the side.

The next thing Dick knew, his arms were free and Slade flipped him over, one hand supporting his chest and the other thumping against his back to force the water in his lungs out.

Dick didn’t remember much about what happened between then and the time he passed out, but one thing burrowed itself into his head between the pain and the panic.

“You’re not getting away that easily.”


	14. Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: Fire

A choked whimper escaped through clenched teeth as Dick pressed his face into the mattress, fingers clawing at the sheets to anchor himself. His arms shook, pain spreading through his back even as the hot wax cooled on his skin. The dull throbbing had been manageable at first, but with every bit of burning wax that dripped onto the mottled and beaten skin on his back, Dick’s control slipped a little more. But he had to hang on. This was a punishment-- for kicking Slade, for nearly drowning, for making so much trouble-- and if Dick didn't take what he deserved now it would only make everything worse.

“You can do better than that, little bird.” Slade said, dripping a thin line up Dick’s spine. It ached, the intense heat making the pain flare up even worse. Dick squeezed his eyes shut, feeling hot tears welling up while he fought to hold himself still. “I want to hear you sing for me.”

Dick let out a moan, his chest shuttering as Slade poured wax at the base of his spine, letting it pool over the bruised skin. The heat was too much and it kept getting hotter. Dick trembled against the mattress, hands clenched in the sheets so tightly he was losing feeling in his hands, trying his hardest to breathe through the sobs that wanted to erupt. 

It hurt. It hurt so much. And Dick still didn’t have it in him to scream, or to do anything but bury his face even harder and try to hold on.

“You liked that one, didn’t you, you little slut?” Slade mocked, fingers trailing through the cooling wax and dragging it across Dick’s back. His muscles tensed under Slade’s hand and Dick choked down a lungful of air, forcing himself to stay loose and pliant on the bed.

All thoughts of holding still were eviscerated as Slade poured a thick line of wax over Dick’s ass and he SCREAMED, his back arching up as the pain took over. It BURNED, the sore and aching skin blistering under the burning wax.

Slade’s hand was in his hair, shoving his head down into the mattress. Dick sobbed, trying to push back against the hand but Slade had him pinned.

“What part of STAY. STILL. Do you not understand?” Slade growled.

“I’m sorry!” Dick whimpered into the sheets, tears running down his face as the pain finally, FINALLY, began to subside.

“No you’re not. But, you will be, bitch.”

With his face pressed into the bed, Dick couldn’t see what Slade was doing, but he heard movement behind him even as the hand in his hair never loosened. The only clue he had was the sudden burst of heat at his back, and with dawning horror, he realized what was about to happen.

There had been tall candles lining the room when Slade first pushed him down on the bed, for ambience, Slade had said. They’d been the kinds with long wicks and wax that burned much, much hotter than what was safe for any kind of play. Dick’s stomach twisted, panic rising in his throat as the heat got more intense, hovering just above the small of his back.

“Slade, don’t!” Dick shouted, trying to twist himself free. “Please! Don’t!”

“Don’t forget to sing for me.” Slade crooned, before holding the open flame against his skin.

Dick screamed, writhing and struggling and flailing as the fire licked his skin. The heat combined with the searing pain in his nerves, overloading his senses and sending his brain into a frenzied panic. The pain was nothing like the dull, aching throb of the hot wax but instead it stung, sharp and fierce as Slade held the flame steady.

The heat kept building the longer Slade held it to his skin, the burn intensifying until Dick couldn’t see, couldn’t hear anything beyond the rushing in his ears, couldn’t think about anything except the pain and the fact that he was burning.

An acrid smell joined the room. Bile rose into Dick’s throat and he might have gagged if he wasn’t too busy screaming. Some tiny, rational part of the very back of his mind recognized the smell of burning flesh, the kind that happened when human skin got hot enough to bubble.

Slade finally pulled the candle away, the flame and the heat removed but the pain didn’t go anywhere. Dick sobbed, tears pouring down his face even as his throat felt raw. His limbs felt like concrete, too heavy to think about moving even though he could feel them shaking. His back was a black hole of pain, taking up all the space in his mind when he tried to focus on anything besides the agony blazing up and down his spine.

“Now hold still, little bird. Unless, of course, you’d like a repeat.”


	15. Science Gone Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 15: Science Gone Wrong
> 
> M is this close to getting it... but he's not there yet!

“It’s going to be okay.” Midnighter tried his best to sound reassuring, but it did nothing to calm the poor bastard on the other side of the bars. The words genetic, mutagen and experimentation never went together well, especially when “ethics” had taken a long since taken a nosedive in the priorities of the secret organization responsible. And something had clearly gone wrong; it was nothing short of a miracle the man had survived it all.

M scanned the room, confirming that all the guards were still down (no pesky healing factors to knit their fractured skulls back together) and that they had plenty of time before the next round would show up. He raised his hands, trying to show the mutilated being on the other side of the bars that he meant no harm. It really wasn’t working; M was crap at the comfort stuff. Dick was the one that always knew what to say, how to flash those perfect pearly whites and make anyone willing to follow him to the ends of the Earth.

Midnighter frowned.

It’d been two weeks since… since everything went down, and he still hadn’t heard a peep from Dick. Not so much as a text or a heads-up that he had business in another city. Dick had never gone this long without contacting him, and even though M knew that this was what he’d asked for, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

They had to talk about what happened. M couldn’t run away from it forever, he needed to make up his fucking mind. If he could never forgive what Dick had done, if he’d crossed a line that M would never be able to move past, then Dick deserved a clean break. And if M could untangle the rage and the fury and the sadness and the violation, if he could just figure out that there was no worse fate in the universe than not having Dick Grayson in his life, then maybe he could man up and tell Dick he needed him. That there was nothing Dick could do that would change how much M loved him. That they would talk about what happened and figure out how to move forward and that they would do it together because the only other alternative was to keep going alone and that would kill him.

But M was a coward and the tangle of emotions in his chest was too raw. It hurt too much to do more than poke it and run away like a scared child.

Still. Two weeks without any contact didn’t feel right. Maybe it was time for M to make the first move.

Or maybe just... think about making it.


	16. Begging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 16: Begging

Dick whimpered, sweat pouring down his face. His cock ached, straining against the ring. The steady mechanical whirring was the only thing louder than the desperate sounds coming out of his mouth; between the two, Dick was going to give out a lot sooner than the fucking machine pounding into his ass.

His arms burned and Dick’s abs clenched as he tried to hold himself steady, but he couldn’t stop the pained gasp when the motion made his back muscles flex. The burn had started to scab over, but it still HURT.

Slade settled back in his chair; arms crossed over his chest and an unreadable look on his face. Or maybe it wasn’t unreadable, Dick just didn’t have the brainpower left to focus on anything. And that was fine.

That was good.

Because if he couldn’t think about anything, he couldn’t think about the nightmare Slade had pulled him out of, couldn’t think about the words that had haunted him all day, couldn’t think about the rage and the betrayal and the horror and the fear in M’s eyes.

_“How could you?”_

Dick whimpered, curling in on himself as the memory overtook him, tears springing to his eyes as white-hot guilt built in his stomach, rising up into his throat until he was choking on it.

The thunderclap pulled him back just as much as the sting burning across his cheek did. Slade’s hand gripped his chin, squeezing hard enough to keep Dick grounded as he pulled Dick’s gaze onto him.

“Are you with me, bitch?” Slade’s voice was low, danger curling in his stomach but even the whisper of fear wasn’t enough to drown out the nauseating guilt. Dick nodded, chest heaving with exhaustion as his arms trembled in the ropes holding them up. “This isn’t enough, is it, little bird?”

Blinking back tears, Dick shook his head no. The look on Slade’s face was almost pitying as a hand stroked through his hair.

“Tell me what you want and maybe you can have it.”

“I—" Dick flinched, trying to breathe even while the guilt swallowed him whole. “...I want to hurt.”

“You want pain, is that it, little bird?”

Dick nodded, hating himself even more hearing the words thrown back at him. Just another reminder of how fucked up he was. How broken he was.

The fucking machine picked up the pace, slamming deep enough to brush his prostate and hard enough to take Dick’s breath away. He gasped, fingers digging into the ropes and ankles yanking against his bonds while his cock strained in agony against the ring.

“You’re just a little masochist, aren’t you? I knew how pretty you looked in pain, but you get off on it, don’t you? You’re hard as a rock right now, just from being beaten black and blue.”

Slade’s hand brushed over Dick’s cock, pulling a keening sound from him before Slade stepped out of view. When Slade returned, the objects in his hand sent Dick into a panic. He gasped, yanking on the ropes in terror but his body was trembling from the force slamming in and out of his ass and he couldn't move.

“I wonder how much farther that goes.” Slade mused, attaching a clamp to Dick’s nipple, then doing the same to the other. He whimpered, wincing as the metal dug in to the abused, sensitive skin. “Masochism goes hand in hand with sadism after all.”

Slade paused, regarding him with an amused grin. Dick gasped as the fucking machine rammed into him hard enough to make him choke.

“That would explain quite a lot about you.” Slade pressed the sticky pad of an electrode against his stomach. “The way you use people. The way that you hurt them. The way you scramble to be there for them, to brush away their pain and make sure they’ll always come crawling back to you so you can do it over. And over. And over again.”

Slade punctuated each word by pressing another electrode against Dick’s skin, on his inner thighs, up his back and arms and the back of his neck. But it wasn’t until Slade reached down for something that the machine pounding into him slowed enough for Dick to catch his breath.

“Slade…” Dick gasped, eyes wide in terror at the box Slade set down in front of him.

“You wanted pain, didn’t you, little bird?”

Dick swallowed, his throat going dry. The clamps bit into his skin, and the pads of the electrodes were sticky against his sweat-soaked skin.

“I…”

“Oh little bird, it’s alright. If this isn’t what you want, we won’t do it.” Slade ran a hand over Dick’s cheek, pressing into the swollen flesh over where he’d slapped him. “I’m sorry that I misunderstood. I thought you wanted to hurt enough to forget all the horrible things you’ve done. Especially after the way you woke up screaming for him, I thought you’d want to forget it all, even for a few moments. To forget the way your precious Midnighter screamed as you raped him, to forget the look on his face when he realized the truth about you, the truth about how there’s no line you wouldn’t cross if—”

“Do it!” Dick snapped, squeezing his eyes as tears dripping down his face. Memories were screaming at him, M’s face contorted in rage, the way M screamed as Dick took him down his throat, the cold fury on his face when it was all over. The look on M’s face at the thought of going through the Door first, of having Dick at his unprotected back like he was still a threat, like he would hurt him all over again.

_“Don’t you dare!” M screamed, spit flying from his mouth._

“Do you want it?” Slade asked.

_“You don’t have to do this!” M was begging now, trying not to show how afraid he was but the fear leaked through his mask anyways._

Dick squeezed his eyes shut and nodded frantically, fingers digging into the rope holding him up. Slade’s hand closed around his chin, dragging his head back so he was forced to look at Slade’s cold, viciously satisfied eye.

_“You think that’s enough?!”_

“I want to hear you beg.”

_“Please Dick.”_

“Slade please!” Dick begged, tears dripping down his face. “Please, please, please!”

_“How could you?”_

“That’s my good little slut.” Slade pressed a kiss to Dick’s still-stinging cheek before pulling away from him and flicking a knob on the side of the box. There was a hum of electricity as the machine powered up, far too much electricity ready to discharge. “Don’t worry, little bird. I’ll make sure there’s nothing else in that broken head of yours.”

And then Slade flicked the switch, taking Dick’s mind with it.


	17. Dirty Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 17: Dirty Secret

Dick’s apartment wasn’t empty. That was a relief for the entire 0.00265 seconds it took M’s brain to process the fact that the occupant wasn’t Dick. The apartment had been empty for days, if not longer.

As M walked through Dick’s home—his home—he catalogued every detail, no matter how small. The pile of clean dishes waiting to be put away, Dick’s jacket draped over the back of the kitchen chair, the tea kettle M had bought in Taiwan sitting on the second burner, the mold growing over the half-eaten loaf of bread on the kitchen counter. When he walked through the living room, everything he saw just confirmed what he already knew. There was a rumpled pile of blankets on the couch, a remote tossed haphazardly on the coffee table, the phone charger plugged into the wall behind the floor lamp; not a single thing in the apartment had been touched since M left.

Dick hadn’t been here in weeks.

The question was; if he wasn’t here, then…

“Where is he?”

“Good to see you too, Starfire.” Midnighter scowled, not turned around as he headed for the bedroom, checking to see if there was anything useful Dick had left behind. There was still no sign of Dick’s phone, which was the only encouraging thing M had seen so far. If something had gone wrong, Dick might not have had time to grab his phone. If the phone was gone, it meant Dick had taken it with him when he chose to leave. In the reflection of a framed painting on the wall, the alien’s eyes burned with rage. Midnighter reacted, turning and stepping out of her reach before she could grab onto his arm the way she intended to.

“What do you want?” M demanded, eyes narrowed, completely not in the mood to be the target of her rage.

“Where. is. Richard?” The tips of her hair glowed with red-hot passion and M could see dozens of scenarios where the princess went full blaze and took half the apartment out with her. “Do not make me ask you again.”

“I don’t know.” Midnighter answered, keeping a tight lock on the knot in his chest.

“That is not good enough.” Starfire spat, eyes blazing with green light. “You are the keeper of his heart, do not treat this matter lightly.”

“We…” M protested, anger sparking in his chest at this insulation that he didn’t care, at the fury over something she had no right to judge. We broke it off, he tried to say, but the words just wouldn’t come out. Instead, he managed to force out, “We’re on a break. I didn’t want… I haven’t heard from him in a few weeks, okay? I don’t know where he is.”

The alien stared at him for a few moments before she nodded slightly, deeming his words to be an acceptable answer.

“Something is wrong.” Kori’s hair cooled to the point that the floor catching fire was no longer a concern, but the hardened look on her face hadn’t changed at all. “We must find him immediately.”

“What happened?” Midnighter asked, heart pounding. It was one thing to be overly cautious and check in because of the anxiety telling him that something wasn’t right, but it was another to see the urgency on Kori’s face.

“He missed lunch.” Kori said somberly. M blinked.

“That’s your emergency?” He demanded. Kori’s eyes narrowed in outrage.

“Yes. That is the emergency!” The alien warrior princess snarled, “The last Friday of every month we share a meal over the video call. He did not answer yesterday. He has never missed a lunch without informing me. Ever.”

Alright, that definitely didn’t sound like Dick.

“Okay, you're right, that's not like him. Have you heard anything from him?”

“No. I arrived here as quickly as I could. Have you?”

M winced and Starfire’s eyes locked onto him, far too perceptive and M had a sinking feeling in his chest as her gaze bore through him.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” Midnighter saw the frown start, knew what was coming and tried to head it off. “We just needed a break. It… it happens.”

“Please do not lie to me.” Kori frowned, deep sadness in her eyes. “Not where Richard is concerned. Something terrible has befallen you both, hasn’t it?”

It wasn’t a question.

Midnighter deflated, the air leaving his lungs in a controlled exhale.

“I… I was careless. Some 'old friends’ put a price on my head, I thought I had it handled. Like I said, I got careless taking out some C-grade bounty hunters and someone got the jump on me.”

“You were captured.” Starfire frowned.

M exhaled sharply, hand curling into a fist.

“Yes. Dick got there before anything could happen.” M snorted bitterly and it wasn’t a nice sound at all. Kori watched him, her brow furrowing but she didn’t interrupt. M took a breath and tried to keep going, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t find the words, couldn’t even begin to imagine how to say them out loud.

Kori reached out slowly, one warm hand settling on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

“He made a deal to save you.”

Midnighter shuddered, and that was more than enough of an answer.

“He touched you.” Starfire’s voice was firm and steady, a rock anchored against the tide.

“Our new friend wanted a show.” M spat bitterly. “Dick was more than willing to give it to him.”

As soon as he said the words, he regretted them. Dick had been willing to do whatever it took to get M out in one piece, no matter the price. That didn’t mean he’d enjoyed a single second of it. That didn’t mean M could forget the agony carved onto his face as Deathstroke took him, the tears that he fought back even as he choked on M’s cock.

But M… he couldn’t pretend it was okay. He’d begged Dick not to, screamed at him to stop and he’d been completely helpless to do anything.

“Who captured you?”

“Does it matter?” M spat, tugging his arm away. But for every probability M could calculate, he had no way to predict the terror that spread across her face, the blinding flash of green light from her eyes or the way her hand clamped down even tighter.

“More than you can possibly imagine.”

Midnighter’s hands weren’t shaking. They weren’t.

“Deathstroke the Terminator.”

“We have to find him.” Starfire breathed immediately, her shoulders trembling and the tips of her fingers glowing with the beginnings of a starbolt. “It was a trap.”

“What?”

“What did you say to him?” The alien demanded, fire burning in her eyes once again.

“I told him we were done!” M spat, off-guard at the sudden blaze of fury. Starfire was emotional by nature, but _never_ this prone to violent mood swings and he was scrambling to adjust to her unusual behavior. “What the hell was I supposed to say?”

Kori exhaled a shaky breath, nausea and pain and fear twisting through the lines on her face.

“Midnighter. I am so sorry for what has happened to you. But you must understand that Dick would do anything to keep you safe, and for that, Slade used you.”

“What the hell are you talking about? The fuck do you mean he used me?”

“He wanted Dick.” Starfire whispered, closing her eyes. “He has taken him again.”

“Again? What do you mean, he took him again?!”

“We need to go. We must find him right now.”

“Stop! You can’t just say shit like that and change the subject! What the hell is going on, Koriand'r?!”

The alien froze, anxiety warring with hesitation on her face. Grief won, causing proud shoulders to slump as she took in a deep breath. Fiery red hair fluttered as she exhaled before fixing Midnighter with her piercing green eyes.

“What has Dick told you about his days with the Titans?”

M blinked.

“I… he’s told me plenty. He talks about you all a lot. You and Donna and Garth, hell we have Wally over for dinner twice a week. The guest room’s basically his.”

Starfire sighed.

“I am not surprised he did not tell you. He would never have told anyone if he’d had his way.”

“About what?” M demanded.

“When we were on the Titans, there was a villain who caused us a great deal of trouble. Dick became obsessed with stopping him, devoting every waking hour to bringing this man to justice. He made some terrible choices that made it difficult to trust him. Then one mission, we were separated, and afterwards we could not find him. We searched for six days with no luck but on the seventh, there was a robbery.” Starfire frowned, her eyes tightening with sadness and regret. “It was Dick, wearing our enemy’s colors.”

“What?”

It wasn’t often in his life that Midnighter was shocked. It was even less often that he was so completely taken off guard that it stunned him into speechlessness.

“He attacked us.” Starfire’s voice was heavy, pain just beneath the steady words.

“Stop.” Midnighter didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice. “Dick would never.”

“He did.”

“No.”

“It took us weeks to figure out what had happened. The night Dick disappeared, myself and the others were hit by a ray of unknown purpose. Several weeks after his disappearance, Dick robbed Wayne Enterprises and we battled him on top of the roof. He’d stolen a very powerful laser, and he’d been ordered to use it against us. When he refused, we found out what the ray had done. Each of us had been infected with nanobots that would destroy us from the inside out. When Dick refused, Slade used them.”

Starfire shivered, her hand rising to the center of her chest in unconscious memory.

“Shortly after that, we were able to have the nanobots removed and we mounted a rescue. When it was finally over, we thought we understood.”

“He used you.” Midnighter’s jaw dropped, horror flooding into his stomach. Dick would have been fifteen, barely sixteen if that. Just a kid trying to save the world, forced to bend to a psychopath's every whim or be the cause of his friends' deaths. “If Dick disobeyed, he’d kill you all.”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“We tried to put it behind us.” Starfire said solemnly. “Robin more than anyone. And for a long time, he was successful. He would not have… if we hadn’t… I…”

M hated his brain sometimes, he really did. Because he took in everything Kori was saying and everything she couldn’t and gave him the answer he never wanted.

“No.” M shook his head, denial the only option when something so horrendous dared to call itself the truth.

“Dick was completely under his power for a month.” Starfire’s voice was solemn. “Slade took everything he wanted from him, and Dick could not refuse.”

_"Oh little bird," Deathstroke crooned, one hand cupping Dick's cheek while the other dragged him in closer, far too close. Dick moved with him, allowing Deathstroke control. "How I've missed hearing you beg."_

The supercomputer in his head was no match for the nausea or the terror that rushed through him, pouring over him and swallowing him whole; there was no room for anything but horror.

“What have I done?” M whispered.


	18. Panic Attacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 18: Panic Attacks

The plate slipped out of his hands, clattering to the floor and shattering in a crash of broken ceramic.

For a few seconds, Dick could only stare. His lungs seized, the roar of his heart pounding in his ears loud enough to deafen him, soapy water dripping off his hands.

The plate broke.

Dick broke the plate.

Slade was going to KILL him.

He’d left Dick with the simple task of cleaning the rest of the dishes, something nearly impossible to ruin— he’d barely been gone for five minutes—and Dick already managed to fuck something up.

“What’s going on?” The fury in Slade’s voice sent terror all the way down Dick’s spine and he gasped, curling in on himself as a fresh wave of tears spilled down his face. It took the feeling on the cabinets digging into his back to realize he was on the ground, pressed up against the cabinets under the sink and sobbing incoherently.

“Slade… I, I…”

“What. Did you do.” Slade demanded.

Dick opened his mouth to try to answer but only shuddering sobs came out. He gasped, chest rising and falling rapidly no matter how hard he tried to retake control. He broke it. He broke it and Slade was furious at him and it was all his fault and…

Then Slade was there, pulling Dick onto his lap and burying Dick’s face in his chest.

“What a pathetic mess you are, little bird.” Slade’s hand carded through Dick’s hair while his other hand kept him pressed close to his chest. Dick shuddered, tears pouring down his face and staining Slade’s shirt while his body shook with sobs. “You’re lucky I know how to deal with you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Dick cried, every word drowning in desperation and self-hatred. He ruined everything. Everything.

“Shush, little bird, I know you are.” Slade crooned. He pulled Dick away, the hand in his hair tightening while he tugged Dick’s head back. Slade’s eye bore into him and Dick couldn’t stand it; couldn’t take the full weight of Slade’s attention. He tried to yank himself free but Slade’s grip only tightened, pinning him helplessly in place. He was poison. He was a mess. He ruined everything and now he’d broken something that couldn’t be fixed; Dick could pick up all the shards and buy Slade a replacement but it wouldn’t change what he did. Dick just didn’t know what he was more afraid of; Slade’s forgiveness, or Slade deciding that he was too much trouble to keep around. Either way, he needed Slade to look away, to stop staring through him like he could read all Dick’s sins from his face alone.

“You know it was your fault, don’t you?” Slade asked. The words punched him in the gut and Dick couldn’t breathe. A fresh wave of tears welled up in his eyes and the knot in his throat tightened until he didn’t have it in him to make even the smallest of sounds. Instead he nodded, wishing he could muster the strength to wipe his eyes.

“Good boy.” Slade murmured as softly as a lover would. His hand, the one that wasn’t gripping him tight enough to rip his hair out, cupped Dick’s face, his thumb sweeping out to brush away his tears. “You’ll be punished for what you’ve done, just like you deserve, and then we can forget this ever happened. How does that sound?”

Dick tried to curl in on himself but Slade held him in place with his unrelenting grip. He didn’t want to be punished; he was so tired of being in pain but at the same time, he deserved it. Why did he keep ruining things? Slade was supposed to fix him, but Dick was enough of a fuckup that all the punishments and the discipline in the world wouldn’t be able to.

He just wanted it to stop. He was so tired of hating himself, so tired of drowning in loneliness and wondering why no one cared that he was gone, so tired of being such a fuckup and ruining everything he ever touched, so tired of the pain that was supposed to fix him when he was so far beyond anyone’s help. Why couldn’t Slade just give up on him already? He was going to realize someday what Dick really was, for all that he promised he knew how to handle him, not even Slade could stop Dick from fucking up.

It was only a matter of time before Slade threw Dick away just like everyone else. And how screwed up was Dick that he almost…

…almost wanted that?


	19. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 19: Guilt
> 
> Technically it's supposed to be survivor's guilt, but this is more fun! Any and all complaints may be thrown directly into the nearest trash can. 
> 
> When we last left off, Midnighter realized he'd fucked up real bad and Dick had yet another bad day. Enjoy!

“DICK!”

The shout rang through the hallway and Dick stopped dead, his heart suddenly jumping to a thousand beats a second.

Midnighter couldn’t be here.

He couldn’t.

He said he never wanted to see Dick again, he wouldn’t just... show up out of the blue.

But a second shout followed the first, and Dick could hear the anger even if he couldn’t make out any of the muffled words through the door.

Without stopping to let himself think, without stopping to let himself remember the last time he’d been in Slade’s office, he raced through the door, bracing himself to come face-to-face with…

…the video playing on Slade’s computer.

Dick’s heart stopped, lungs falling still while his legs turned to stone.

M’s face was twisted in fury, rage and fear screaming at Dick. But not him... he was screaming at the Dick on the screen, the one who was... sinking to his knees...

No. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no…

Dick couldn’t stop himself from stepping closer, from taking in every single crease and wrinkle on M’s face. On the screen, M’s eyes flicked around, his superpowered brain taking in more stimulus than Dick would ever be able to conceive.

A thought stabbed through Dick’s chest suddenly, pressing down on his heart and pulling the air out of his lungs.

M looked so scared.

“Dick, stop.” M begged and Dick’s legs gave out. He collapsed into the chair—into Slade’s chair— and his eyes glued themselves to the screen.

“It’s going to be okay, M.” Dick heard himself say and he hated himself for, hated himself more than he ever had before. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

Dick couldn’t look away. He watched everything, taking it all in numbly as the horror and the guilt built in his chest. As bad as he remembered that day being, watching it like this, being able to see every single line on M’s face, to watch exactly how badly Dick had hurt him, it was infinitely worse. And he couldn’t stop watching.

The video looped. And it looped again. And again. And again and again and again and Dick couldn’t look away. He lost track of the number of times he watched it, lost track of everything but M’s desperate pleading and the furious rage and the sheer agonizing helplessness as Dick raped him.

He heard the door scrape open, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t look away from the screen even if he tried, and there was nothing left inside him to feel anything but the paralyzing guilt eating him alive. Dick’s fingers had long-since gone numb from desperately digging in to the armrests and his back and neck and shoulder ached from sitting still for so long. He ignored it all, just like he ignored the pinching headache behind his eyes as he scanned them across the screen, taking in every expression, every time M’s eyes widened or his mouth pinched or his jawline tightened as M gritted his teeth and tried to control his body while Dick violated him.

“Oh little bird.” Slade said, the hand on Dick’s chin forcing him away from the screen.

Dick didn’t fight the grip.

There wasn’t enough left in him for that.

“Don’t tell me you think you still need to be punished for that.”

“I…” Dick’s breath caught in his throat and his chest hitched. Punishment meant pain; pain and more pain and when Slade was done hurting him, he would tear him apart from the inside out all over again. Dick shuddered, tremors starting in his shoulders and moving all the way down.

Did he think he still deserved to be punished?

“Don’t you dare!” M shouted on the screen, bits of spit flying from his mouth. Dick’s eyes snapped to the side, locking onto the man’s face. He’d lost track of how many times he’d watched this moment, but the sudden wrinkling in the center of his forehead, the way his mouth dropped open while the corners tightened, the sudden sharp intake of breath; M was afraid.

Another piece broke off Dick’s already shattered heart, grinding into dust under its own weight.

M was afraid because of Dick.

“…yes.” Dick whimpered.


	20. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lost (In Memories)
> 
> This one is also a bit of a stretch but who doesn't love being trapped within a traumatic memory?

“Querido,” Catalina whispered. “Estoy aquí, mi amor, cállate. Te tengo.”

Rain.

Wet bodies on a rooftop.

A single gunshot ringing in his ears that refused to go away.

Blockbuster was dead.

Catalina shot him and Dick… stood aside. Dick let her pull the trigger when he could have stopped her, should have stopped her and instead he didn’t. He just stood aside and let it happen like he was no better than the man who’d ruined him, the man who’d systematically destroyed everything and burned Dick’s life down around him.

He wasn’t better.

He never had been. Dick was a monster through and through and he should have known better than to pretend otherwise. Catalina had known what he was.

God, Catalina, he’d failed her. He’d failed her in every way, let her do monstrous deeds in his name, he’d let her shoot Blockbuster…

Dick had stood aside and let Blockbuster be murdered.

A choked whimper escaped him and the voice in his head murmured again.

“Shh, querido. Callado, just like that. That’s it.”

Dick could still see the red blood staining his hands, still smell the sickly iron stench of Roland’s blood as it spilled down the steps of that damn stairwell. Bile rose into his throat and he almost heaved, but the warm hand closed around his wrist, squeezing against the pressure points until Dick gasped from the pain. Dick couldn’t breathe but he could feel the tears pouring down his face as he whimpered apologies to Bruce, hating himself more than he’d ever known he could. Or maybe that was rain on his face. Maybe Dick wasn’t crying, maybe monsters like him weren’t even capable of that.

Catalina wouldn’t stop touching him, those warm hands wrapping around his cock and stroking him, the whole time muttering softly.

“Hush, mi amor.”

“Don’t touch me,” Dick begged like he always did, but it never stopped her. Just like he could never stop her, never find his way back from the numbness. Didn’t she know he was poison? Dick failed her, failed her worse than he’d ever failed anyone, not even his parents, not even Bruce or god, not even Jason, who’d died and Dick hadn’t even known for months until the Titans got back from deep space.

“Shhh, querido, be quiet,” Catalina shushed him, her hands moving over him, wet fingers pressing inside of him until Dick was gasping and panting, tears raining down his face. Dick was too numb to do anything but cry and whimper while she took her time, opening him up before taking her pleasure from him like he wasn’t poison. The whole time, she whispered to him, shushing him and muttering comforts in his ears until she got tired of the noise and wrapped a too-warm hand around his throat.

Dick couldn’t breathe by the time she emptied into him, couldn’t do more than feel the rain spilling down his face. He was too numb, to nauseous from the smell of blood, too full of hatred at himself for what he’d done.

“Are you with me, little bird?” Catalina crooned. Dick’s heart stopped.

She never called him that. Amor, querido, Nightwing, even Dick, but there was only one person who called him…

Dick’s eyes snapped open, his head spinning while he tried to remember where he was. Slade was staring down at him with a smug look on his face, his broad hand wrapped around Dick’s throat with the pad of his thumb stroking across the skin. Dick gasped for breath, heart pounding uncontrollably as he tried to calm himself down.

“Don’t worry, little bird. She’s gone. She can’t hurt you anymore.” Slade promised. Dick slammed his eyes shut, wincing at the painful reminder that Catalina was dead, that she’d died a long time ago and Dick would never get a chance to make up for his failures. “I made sure of it. After all, she should have known better than to touch anything of mine.”


	21. Chronic Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 21: Chronic Pain

Dick curled up on his side, exhaling sharply as a spike of pain ran down his back. The burn had scabbed over enough he didn’t have to leave it covered, but it hadn’t stopped hurting since he’d gotten it in the first place. The collar dug into his chest, pinching the skin and it hurt, but the idea of moving and disturbing the burn again made Dick want to cry. He took a deep breath, telling himself the rattling sound was because he was on the verge of tears and not because one of his ribs was broken and threatening to pierce his lungs.

The bruises on Dick’s arm protested a little when he first laid down, but having his full weight on them was turning the dull ache into a constant throb of pain that was becoming impossible to ignore.

He needed to turn over and the thought of moving pulled tears into his eyes, a sob escaping his lips as his entire body protested at the same time. But his arm hurt so badly it was all he could think about, so Dick ground his teeth together and clenched his abs and turned himself onto his stomach. The air rushed out of his lungs as he thumped down onto the mattress, his ribs protesting and the burn on his back screaming as the muscles stretched. But at least his arm had stopped throbbing. Dick buried his face into the pillow, tears staining the fabric, but he didn’t have it in him to care. Everything hurt too much and he was too tired and he just wanted… he just wanted it to stop. All of it.

He didn’t move when he heard footsteps enter the room, wouldn’t have even if he had that much energy left in his body.

“What’s wrong, little bird?” Slade voice was soft as his hand combed through Dick’s hair and Dick wanted to scream. He knew what was wrong. Slade had done this to him, every bit of it. Most of it, he’d done earlier that same day.

But Dick deserved it. He… he’d practically… no he _had_ asked Slade to do it.

Dick tried to answer, knowing better than to ignore Slade when he’d asked him a question, but the only thing that came out was a pathetic, broken sob. Slade’s hand stilled in his hair before he bent down to press a kiss to the back of Dick’s head.

“I’ll be right back.”

Dick felt a tear drip down his cheek but nothing followed it. He felt empty, like he’d been hollowed from the inside out and soon there wasn’t going to be anything left of him. God, he wanted that so much. To just… disappear. Because then all the pain would stop, it would all go away forever and Dick would never hurt anyone else ever again.

But it didn’t work like that. Dick was never going to stop hurting; not himself, not the people he cared about. He was too broken for that. Too poisonous. Too fucking tired.

“Here.” Slade held out something and Dick peeled his eyes open long enough to glance at them nervously; the small red pills looked like Advil but he knew better than to trust anything Slade gave him.

He also knew better than to argue.

Dick took the pills, ready to swallow them dry when Slade settled next to him on the bed, pressing a glass of water to his lips. Dick opened his mouth, letting Slade guide his head back with the hand tangled in his hair.

“Good boy.” Slade praised and Dick let the words wash over him, too exhausted to pretend they didn’t wave of relief through him. Slade set the glass down, while his hands settled on Dick’s back. Dick flinched. “Shh, little bird, just relax. I’ve got you.”

Dick winced when warm fingers dug into tense muscles, but after a few minutes of rhythmic kneading, his back started to unclench. Slade massaged his back, expertly digging into the knots and pressing strategically to unwind the tension. He worked his way lower, carefully avoiding the burn on the center of Dick’s back and after a while, Dick felt himself on the verge of tears.

It felt amazing.

For so long Dick could only remember pain and tension and soreness and more pain. Dick didn’t deserve this. He deserved the pain, deserved the punishments. He didn’t want this, didn’t want the way that Slade’s hands pressed in with more skill than a trained masseuse, didn’t want the way they trailed down his legs and up his arms like Dick’s body belonged to him, didn’t want any of the comfort Slade had to give him. Because if Slade thought that Dick deserved comfort, that meant that Dick had done something right.

And if Dick had done something right, that meant that he was getting better. And the idea that Dick could be getting better, that the punishments and the pain all meant something, that someday they might stop? Dick couldn’t handle that.

But it just wouldn’t stop. Slade kept going until the pain meds had long-since kicked in, working the tension and the pain from his body until a buzz settled over him from top to bottom and Dick could breathe without every second being agony. Slade’s hands lifted up, and Dick couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped him.

“That’s it, little bird.” Slade tilted Dick’s head to the side, dropping lower so the heat from Slade’s breath washed over him. “You’re being so good for me.”

Slade kissed him like he meant it, and the only thing Dick felt was despair.


	22. Drugged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 22: Drugged

“Tea?” Slade handed him a mug and Dick accepted it, wrapping his hands around to take in the warmth. The safehouse wasn’t freezing exactly, but Slade didn’t seem to even notice the cold.

Slade settled in one of the armchairs, picking up a book and drinking from a mug of his own. Dick took a cautious sip to make sure it wasn’t scalding, then took a bigger one. Earl gray; not as good as the kind Alfred made, but not bitter either. Slade hadn’t struck Dick as much of a tea drinker, but he always kept a supply on hand. That was just another thing Dick had learned about him, probably one of many more that he’d come to learn. Whether he wanted to or not.

Dick shifted, trying not to disturb any of the bruises or the scab on his back, but Slade had given him some more pain relievers that morning. All in all, it wasn’t the worst he’d ever felt.

He took another sip, watching Slade out of the corner of his eye. The man was engrossed in his book, not looking up even though he must have known Dick was looking. It made the pit in Dick’s stomach loosen, just a little, not to be the sole focus of Slade’s attention.

Dick leaned back into the couch, content to drink his tea and enjoy the moment of quiet while it lasted.

Slade hadn’t said anything yet, so Dick took that as permission to keep looking. Watching Slade was… indescribable. Even doing something as simple as reading a book, he was completely focused on it. And at the same time, Dick knew Slade was paying attention to everything around him.

Especially Dick.

He lost track of how long they sat like that, Slade reading and Dick watching him, both of them drinking tea. It was almost… nice.

Dick took another sip.

Correction. Dick tried to take another sip. Instead, his fingers twitched and the mug slipped out of his hands, crashing against the carpet and spilling tea everywhere.

He tried to catch it but he couldn’t move.

He couldn’t move.

Dick inhaled sharply and somewhere in the back of his mind he was grateful that he could still breathe even as the panic built in his chest.

“That was clumsy, little bird.” Slade said, shutting his book and turning to face Dick. Slade stood, crossing the room in a few steps. “You know better than to break my things.”

Dick’s breath hitched, chest rising and falling frantically as he tried to get his body to respond but he couldn’t move.

“Nothing to say for yourself? Not even an apology?” Slade mocked, his voice so horribly gentle. He crouched down so his face was practically on top of Dick’s and reality set in. He couldn’t move.

He.

Couldn’t.

Move.

“I suppose I can forgive your disrespect since you’re being so quiet for me, little bird. Maybe I should keep you like this, a pretty thing to be seen and not heard.”

Slade pulled Dick off the couch, pushing him onto his knees. Dick’s arms were dead weights by his side, and only Slade’s grip in his hair was keeping him upright. Slade’s hand reached for Dick’s chin, easily prying his mouth down. Dick watched in horror as Slade unzipped his pants and freed his cock, stroking himself up with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even support his own body weight. He was helpless and on his knees before Slade, his jaw hanging open waiting for Slade to use him.

“That’s a good little bird.” Slade said as he pulled Dick’s head toward him, forcing his cock down Dick’s throat.

Dick had been here so many times before; on his knees in front of Slade, the hands in his hair forcing his head still, with Slade fucking his mouth until Dick choked and tears poured down his face. But this was so much worse.

Because Dick had never been this helpless, never been so completely trapped in his own body that the most he could do was move his eyes around. Dick wasn’t even holding himself up; the only thing keeping him from collapsing bonelessly into the ground was Slade’s hands yanking at his hair and it hurt. There was nothing he could do while Slade used him, and Slade knew it. He wasn’t even bothering with the usual insults and degrading words, just taking what he wanted from Dick’s open mouth.

It wasn't long before Slade’s hips stuttered and he pulled out in one smooth motion. Dick couldn’t move, couldn't close his eyes, couldn’t do anything as Slade came on his face.

Slade’s thumbs dragged across Dick’s face, wiping his stinging eyes clear. There was a grin on his face, something possessive and nasty and Dick was grateful that he couldn't feel any more nauseous than he already did. He had no idea what would happen if he threw up like this.

“That’s a good boy.”

That was all Slade said to him before dragging him up and draping him over the coffee table, ass up in the air and the edges digging painfully into his stomach.

Dick couldn’t move. He couldn’t make a sound. He couldn’t do anything but breathe and feel the itchy, sticky feeling of cum drying on his face. He could hear his heartbeat pounding steadily in his ears, but it was beating on its own; Dick didn’t even have enough control for his body to feel panic.

A few seconds later, Dick heard the movement as Slade picked up his book and settled back into the same chair, completely ignoring Dick. 

Never in his life had Dick been so desperate to start crying, but he didn’t even have the ability to do that. All he could do was stare at the carpet and the tips of Slade’s shoes at the edge of his vision, and hope that the paralytic would wear off. Eventually.


	23. Sleep Deprivation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 23: Sleep Deprivation

Dick was dreaming of M. He had been ever since that night, but as the days stretched on, the fury and the rage that replayed over and over had been tempered. In his dreams, M had long since forgiven him, holding Dick close and kissing his bruises and threading his hands through Dick’s hair like he was the most precious thing in the world.

But then Dick woke up. To the unsettling, unpleasant choking feeling of a hand closing around his collar.

“Get up.” Slade yanked him off the bed, throwing something at him as he dragged him towards the door. The room spun, Dick’s head swimming with exhaustion and the world blurring in and out of focus. Clumsy, fatigued fingers fumbled at the lump Slade had thrown him, somehow figuring out that they were sweatpants and that he was supposed to put them on.

Dragging the fabric over his legs while Slade tugged him along was almost impossible, and the fact that he was stumbling over his own feet from sheer exhaustion just made it harder. By the time Dick managed to get them on, his brain had only just caught up to the fact that Slade was talking.

That he’d been talking the whole time.

Dick blinked hard, desperately trying to clear his head enough to think but it was so hard; whatever Slade had drugged him with had finally worn off but it left Dick feeling drained and empty like his bones had been hollowed from the inside out. The simple task of staying on his feet was about all that Dick could handle, let alone processing the words coming out of Slade’s mouth.

“Do you understand?” Slade’s voice was as smooth as silk, sliding in one ear and out the other and the tiny part of Dick’s brain that still managed to function desperately grabbed onto the thought before it could slip away.

“I… I don’t… I’m sorry I—”

Dick’s head snapped to the side, pain exploding along his cheek as his ears rang from the force of the blow. It hurt, but at the same time the pain grounded him to the point that he could finally tell that they were standing in the hallway, Slade pinning Dick against the wall with a bruising grip on his chin.

“There’s a message for you.” Slade said slowly, his eye boring into Dick’s face with so much intensity that it took over Dick’s vision. “You have five minutes to answer. Do you understand?”

Dick’s brain scrambled to pull the words in, desperately chugging away through the haze of exhaustion to reach something resembling focus.

Message. Five minutes.

Shit, Slade asked him a question!

“…yes sir.”

“Good boy. In you go.”

With that, Slade shoved him through an open door and Dick froze; he was standing in the office, staring face-to-face with the fucking dog crate. Terror gripped his stomach, ice unfurling in his veins making his blood run cold.

“Four and a half minutes, little bird.” Slade’s voice broke through the haze, and Dick’s brain managed to push a single coherent thought through the mix of exhaustion and terror and dread; there was a message for him.

Dick stumbled over to the desk, blinking to clear his blurry vision and confirming that he wasn’t dreaming; that was really his phone lying on the desk, the one he hadn’t seen in nearly a month. Sure enough, there was a text from Bruce. Dick’s legs trembled from exhaustion and he sunk into Slade’s massive chair even as he scrambled to open his phone, fingers fumbling over the passcode.

It took him four tries to open his phone and something inside him despaired that a task he’d done hundreds of times a day had become unfamiliar.

The tiny letters swam on the screen, the light coming off his phone painfully bright on Dick’s eyes. Through sheer force of will, he managed to focus on the words hard enough to string them together into a sentence.

“GCPD identified third disappearance, profile matches first two.”

Dick’s head swam as his brain desperately tried to pull together enough to remember what he was talking about, and after a few seconds it clicked. The string of home invasions and homicides he’d been investigating for Bruce. He’d gotten a few solids leads, hadn’t he?

The world was spinning and his eyes kept blurring in and out of focus and Dick fought to remember what he’d done.

There was a file.

Dick had made a file!

Shit, where the hell had he put it? Was it on his computer? No, then Oracle would have it and Bruce wouldn’t need to ask him. Plus there was the physical evidence, the reports he’d copied and hadn’t had time to scan. Crap, where was it?

“Started suspect list and profiles. All in file in my apartment.” Dick typed, cursing himself for how slowly his fingers were moving over the keys. Everything he typed was riddled with spelling mistakes, but he didn’t have time to fix them. All he had to do was get the filename right. Fuck, and to do that he had to remember what the name was. Damn Bruce and his stupid file naming rules, he was never going to remember the string of letters and numbers when his head was spinning so fast he couldn’t see. But he had to; he HAD to get Bruce the file.

It was just five letters and ten numbers, he could do this. Dick typed the alphabetical designation, checking three times to make sure he’d gotten it right, then typed the first half of the number code and stared blankly at the screen.

“File number NWSSK-04348”

He needed the last five numbers. Shit, what were the last five? He didn’t have time for this—what were the damn numbers?! Why couldn’t he remember?! Shit, focus, he didn’t have time to be pissed at himself, he needed the last five numbers, even a few of them might be enough but Dick had thousands of in-progress cases, Bruce would never be able to find his files without them.

“NWSSK-0434892—”

0434892… 714! 714, that was it!

Dick scrambled to type the last three numbers, trembling fingers clammy with sweat as he typed the numbers in, holding the phone close to his face to confirm that he’d gotten it right.

0434892714!

Perfect. Dick let out a breath, the knot in his chest loosening as he pressed sen--

Slade yanked the collar back, pulling Dick all the way out of the chair before he knew what was happening.

“That’s five minutes.”

“Wait, Slade!” Dick protested, trying to get his feet under him. “Please, I just need another second, I was almost—”

“I said, five minutes.” Slade reminded him, sounding far too amused for the desperation building in Dick's chest. “That’s all you get.”

“Slade, please!” Dick struggled in Slade’s grip, trying to yank himself free. He had to get Bruce his files—just a few more seconds and he would’ve finished. “Please, people are going to get hurt if I don’t! I just need one second‼”

“Then you should have been smarter about how you used your time.”

“Slade, let go!” Dick lashed out frantically, somehow managing to push Slade off him and scrambling for the computer again. He made it three steps before Slade's foot slammed into the back of his knees, Dick's arms coming up just in time to stop him from slamming his forehead into the edge of the desk.

“Oh, little bird, you shouldn’t have done that.” Slade yanked Dick’s arms back, twisting them tightly behind him until his shoulders ached. Dick tried to yank himself free, ignoring how badly it hurt when Slade’s grip tightened, ignoring all of his instincts screaming at him to stop. He had to get the message to Bruce; that was the only thing that mattered.

“If you’re going to cause trouble, I’ll need to keep an eye on you somehow.” Slade said, and Dick’s heart stopped at the sound of the crate scraping against the floor.

“No.” Dick breathed, eyes going wide as his body froze. His heart was in his throat, chest constricting so tightly he couldn’t breathe even if he wanted to. Slade just pushed his to his knees, easily holding Dick in place.

“In you go.”

“Slade, no! Please! Slade PLEASE! NOOOOO!”

Slade shoved him face-first into the crate, and Dick’s vision went blurry as his nose slammed against the bars. It was worse than he remembered, so much worse and he could feel the panic building as the bars dug into him hard enough to bite. Was the crate smaller? It had to be. It was too small, the bars pressing in on all sides and his arms were trapped behind him and he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

“Now let’s see if we can’t clear up this mess you made.” Slade said as he sat down at the desk, reaching down to stroke a line across Dick’s bare back through the bars. Dick fought back a scream, blind panic overtaking him. “But don’t worry, little bird. You’re forgiven.”


	24. Blindfolded and Sensory Deprivation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 24: Blindfolded AND sensory deprivation

Dick tapped his fork with the pad of his thumb, waiting for Slade to finish eating without calling attention to himself. Slade was reading through a newspaper, thumbing through the sports section. He’d offered Dick the front page, but Dick couldn’t bring himself to take his eyes off Slade for longer than a few seconds. It helped to know that something was coming, even if Dick couldn’t do anything to stop it.

He’d taken a few minutes to glance over the front page and current events, but it felt… empty. He hadn’t tried to leave the safehouse yet, but there wasn’t much point. If Slade wanted him outside, he’d be outside, and trying to leave without permission was… Dick was a lot of things, but suicidal wasn’t one of them.

…he refused to acknowledge the small voice in his head that tried to add a "yet" to the end of that thought.

In any case, the news didn’t do much for him. He'd seen the date, but he knew that anyway. Dick had been with Slade for twenty-four days now, just over three weeks but god, it felt so much longer than that.

Time didn’t really matter anyways.

Nothing did.

M hadn’t tried to find him.

M didn’t want anything to do with him, not now or ever. He could call a Door to take him anywhere in the world, if he wanted Dick he’d already be here for him. But he wasn’t. He hadn’t come and he wasn’t going to, and there was nowhere else in the world Dick could go. If Slade would even let him leave, he had nothing. There’d be no one left for him, not once they all found out what Dick had done.

Slade closed the newspaper and set his silverware on his plate before finally glancing over at Dick.

“How was your breakfast?” Slade asked casually.

“Good.” Dick answered, relieved that he didn’t have to lie. It had come as a surprise, but Slade was a half-decent cook. “Thank you.”

Dick reached for Slade’s empty plate, ready to clear the table like he usually did, but Slade’s hand gently closed around his wrist. Dick froze.

“It’s alright, I’ve got it today.” Slade smiled, thumb rubbing soft circles into Dick’s pulse point. Dick released the plate, holding still as Slade brought his hand up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. When Slade let go, Dick pulled his hand back as fast as he dared. Slade liked to mess with him; for everything he followed through on, there were a dozen empty threats to make Dick nervous. Slade smirked, raising an eyebrow to show Dick he’d seen the move and knew exactly what he was thinking, before picking up Dick’s plate and mug as well. As he made his way to the sink, he called over his shoulder, “Go ahead and get on the table.”

Shit.

Dick breathed out, trying to get rid of the nerves as he climbed on top of the massive table. Slade hadn’t said to do anything else, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was coming. Dick reached for his shirt, ready to pull it over his head when Slade hummed.

“Somebody’s eager. You can leave that on, if you’d like.” Slade called from the other side of the kitchen.

Dick let his shirt drop, hands nervously dropping onto the table.

“Why don’t you lie down?” Slade prompted, and Dick obeyed, letting the back of his head rest against the wood. “I know you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Dick flinched, biting back the instinctive retort that he hadn’t gotten sleep because Slade had dragged him out of bed after two hours of sleep and had given him five minutes on his feet before stuffing him back inside that damn crate. He knew better than to complain; besides, Slade could always lock him in the crate again, and being on display on the table was infinitely better than being shut in so tightly he couldn’t move—

He forced himself to take a breath, cutting off that line of thought as well as he could.

It wasn’t comfortable lying on the table, but at least he was lying down. It wasn’t long before his exhausted eyes drifted shut and his chest was rising and falling steadily.

* * *

It was night when he woke up, mind hazy with exhaustion and his mouth full of cotton.

No.

If it was night, Dick would still be able to see green letters of the oven’s clock, or see moonlight streaming in through the windows. And besides, Dick was still too exhausted to have drifted off for more than a few minutes. No, it wasn’t night. Dick couldn’t see because there was a blindfold over his face, one thick enough to block out all the light.

Dick tried to sit up, but his wrists wouldn’t move. While most of his brain processed the fact that he was tied down to the kitchen table, another part of him grieved the fact that he was becoming used to Slade tying him up.

“Are you comfortable, little bird?” Slade asked. “And don’t bother pretending you’re asleep.”

Dick tried to answer, and that was how he realized the cotton filling his mouth wasn’t metaphorical. There was some kind of fabric wedged into his mouth and a layer of what felt like duct tape wrapped around his face holding his lips closed. Dick made a panicked sound through his nose, trying to ask Slade what was going on.

Slade always told him what he was doing. It was the one certainty Dick could count on. But this… Dick should have seen it coming.

“Oh, there's no need to panic, little bird. I have some work to do, and you need to catch up on your sleep. This way I can keep an eye you, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure I can’t distract you.”

Dick let out a frantic hum, tugging on the rope holding his wrists together even though he knew it was hopeless. Even though he knew it was pointless to fight Slade, even though he desperately wished there was nothing left in him that still cared enough to try.

“By the way, that reminds me. I thought I showed you the paper but you must not have seen it. There was another body found in Gotham this morning; Batman was too late to catch the killer. Apparently, the Dark Knight found your intel as useless as he finds you.”

Dick’s eyes were wide under the blindfold and he froze, nausea and guilt and self-hatred churning in his stomach. Bruce didn’t get the files. Bruce didn’t get his files. Dick never hit send, didn’t make it in time to save a life.

Someone was dead because of him.

“And to think, I almost forgot.” Slade hummed in amusement, trailing a finger up Dick's exposed chest, rubbing across the fabric of his shirt. “Now don’t worry if you experience severe disorientation or vertigo. I’m told that’s a very normal side-effect for prolonged sensory deprivation. And I do advise you not to be sick; that won’t be a pleasant experience at all.”

Slade pressed a kiss into the line of Dick’s throat, just above the leather collar around his neck.

“Sleep well.”

Then something pressed over his ears and Dick had a second to process the bulky headset before the noise started; it was a mix of pulsing sounds waves so loud Dick couldn’t hear himself think. It got inside his head, cutting through any strands of thought Dick tried to pull together, and there was no escape from it. Dick tugged on the wrists, tried to pull his legs up but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t see, couldn’t talk, couldn’t hear anything besides the pulsing static in his ears.


	25. Ringing Ears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 25: Ringing Ears
> 
> ...It's entirely possible this chapter completely got away from me and threw off my entire schedule. But mark my words, I'm going to see this whole month through, I swear it.
> 
> Warning, don't try this at home. Not that anyone ever would, because that would be straight up insane and/or suicidal.
> 
> If you have a gun kink, you're gonna like this one. To the one specific person this is a callout for, I especially hope you enjoy it.

"Wh... what are we doing out here?" Dick asked carefully as Slade closed the door behind them. The pit of anxiety in his chest loosened when a smirk and not a flash of anger crossed Slade's face.

“I thought you could use some fresh air.” Slade's voice was even but it was impossible not to hear the amusement. “It’s not healthy for you to sit around the house all day.”

Dick kept his mouth shut, looking up at the sky instead of rising to the bait. The sky was gray and cloudy, and Dick was grateful for it; it was easier not to think about all the things he was missing being Slade’s—being with Slade. Slade led him around the back of the house and Dick couldn’t help but stare out at the nothingness surrounding them; it was one thing to look out through the windows and see nothing but open fields and rows of corn, but it was another thing entirely to look around and see absolutely nothing in every direction.

“Are you scared of guns, little bird?”

Dick blinked hard, whirling around to see Slade checking the balance on a small handgun. He swallowed, his eyes not leaving the barrel for even a second and Slade loaded a clip into place.

“I…”

“They say people fear things because they don’t understand them. I think you might just need to get… better acquainted with a few of them.”

“Wait, Slade—I don’t…” That was when Dick’s brain finally processed where they were standing, and his heart sunk. There was a shooting range complete with targets on the other end, and Slade was setting a case down and pulling out—

A Walther Q5 Match. And there were more guns in the case, but Dick couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Slade checking the balance, loading in a clip and cocking the gun loudly. The sound made Dick shiver, carrying the weight of far too many memories.

He knew how to shoot; he’d had to learn how so many times for so many different reasons. From Bruce, in basic training… from Slade himself all those years ago. But just because he knew his way around a firearm didn’t mean he didn’t hate it, didn’t mean he’d ever stop hating them with burning, gut-churning passion.

Not that it mattered. It certainly didn’t matter to Slade. Dick didn’t protest as he was dragged to the end of the range, centered in position for a clear shot at the target on the opposite side. Slade wrapped Dick’s hands around the gun, curling his finger around the trigger. Slade’s body was pressed close to him and the sturdiness of his chest made Dick feel small and pathetic, especially with the way his legs trembled under him. Dick mouth was dry as Slade raised the gun, aiming carefully along Dick’s sightlines.

“Line up the shot.” Slade’s voice was right in his ear and Dick shivered. But Slade wasn’t waiting for him, he just moved Dick’s hand where he wanted it.

The gunshot rang out, a deafening bang exploding right in Dick’s uncovered ears. He winced, stumbling back as far as Slade would let him.

“You’re not much of a shot, are you?” Slade sneered, disappointed disdain dripping from his voice. Dick shivered under the weight of it, even as he bristled at the unfair insult. He hadn’t even aimed it, Slade had been the one to shoot.

“Slade, I—”

“Did I give you permission to speak?” Slade snapped, and Dick flinched. A hand grabbed his chin roughly, forcing his head back. “You’re pathetic. You can’t shoot, you can’t even follow basic instructions.”

Slade sneered at him and Dick shriveled under the weight of Slade’s anger, the ringing in his head making his vision a little fuzzy.

“Let’s see how well you handle this. Or if you’ll mess it up like you ruin everything else. Turn around.”

Dick didn’t have a chance to follow the order before Slade spun him around with the hand on his shoulder, and the next thing he knew, Slade was yanking his wrists behind his back and securing them tightly with duct tape. The sound of tape ripping off the roll made Dick’s ringing ears throb and his head spun even worse.

“That’s better, isn’t it?”

Dick closed his eyes, trying to relax into the bonds.

“I asked you a question, little bird. Isn’t that better?”

Dick flinched.

“Yes sir.”

“Good boy. You don’t mind holding something for me, do you?”

Dick’s breath caught in his throat, but there was only one answer.

“No sir.”

“Good. Open up.” Slade pressed something to his lips and Dick didn’t have a choice but to part his lips. Slade forced the thing inside, and Dick tasted metal and gunpowder and dirt as something sharp pressed against his cheek. It was a used shell, still warm from being shot out the Walther. “Can’t have my bullets getting dirty, now can I?”

“No—” Dick tried to answer, but the second he opened his mouth, Slade pushed another bullet inside. This time it was the whole cartridge, pointy and much longer than the first.

“Don’t lose any of them, do you understand?”

Dick tried his best to nod but then Slade shoved another two into his mouth so fast he almost gagged. Slade kept going until Dick was choking around the mouthful of metal, all of his focus on making sure nothing got lodged in his throat. Slade probably wouldn’t let him suffocate. Probably. But Dick would be punished for it, and he was not going to be punished for disobeying if he could help it.

“Good boy.” Slade praised, and Dick winced at the sound of more duct tape being ripped off, his head throbbing at the loud, unbearably scratchy noise. Slade wrapped the tape all around Dick’s face to the back of his head and around again, pressing in tightly against the metal filling his mouth. Dick let out a whimper as jagged bits of metal dug into the lining of his cheeks, but mostly he was just trying not to choke on it all.

There was no warning before Slade shoved him to his knees, the hand on the back of his head slamming his face into the dirt. Dick’s head throbbed, the ringing in his ears unbearable. He barely noticed as Slade pulled his pants down, but he couldn’t miss when a finger dripping with gun oil pressed up against the rim of his ass. Dick gasped around the mouthful of metal, cheek digging into the dirt as Slade shoved in roughly, impatiently pressing two fingers at a time.

Too quickly, he added another finger, then another and Dick couldn’t do anything but take it. Slade stretched him out roughly, too many fingers pressing and pulling and twisting too hard and too fast and Dick couldn’t stop the whimpers escaping his mouth. His wrists strained against the duct tape and his shoulders burned and sharp things sliced into him from both sides. The jagged edges of the bullets cut up the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood and it was all he could not to choke. At the same time, sharp gravel dug into the skin of his cheek, the sting quickly growing unbearable and there was nothing Dick could do to take the pressure off his face. Not with his hands bound so tightly behind his back and the way Slade was shoving him down.

The pressure disappeared as Slade suddenly pulled his fingers out, enough that Dick could almost get a full breath in through his nose. He braced himself for Slade to pull out his cock, resigned to accept the pounding that was coming. That wasn’t so bad; Slade had been liberal with the gun oil, it wasn’t like he was going in dry.

Another shot rang out suddenly and Dick flinched, the thundercrack causing his ears to ring even worse.

And then something pressed against Dick’s ass.

Something hot and metal and unforgiving.

Dick froze, terror flooding through him. Either Slade was about to shoot him, or he was about to do something much worse.

There wasn’t much time to wonder. Almost immediately, Slade began to press, the barrel pushing inside and beginning to part the muscles. Dick screamed as Slade forced the gun in, his rim stretching painfully to allow the harsh metal in. It hurt, it hurt so badly even with the forceful preparation Slade had done. The ridges along the barrel caught along his muscles, the walls of his ass being forced aside and contracting over and over as Slade pushed deeper.

“Hold still, little bird.” Slade warned. “After all, it’s still loaded. I’d hate for my finger to… slip.”

The barrel felt huge inside him and it just kept going, deeper and deeper and Dick felt like he was being split apart. The ridges pulled at him, dragging over the muscles in his ass and making it impossible not to feel every single millimeter as Slade shoved it into him. The hard metal forced his body to warp around it, absolutely no give whatsoever. And the barrel was still hot; not enough to burn, but hot enough that Dick couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t pull himself away from the feeling of it stretching him out like a furnace.

Something pressed against his rim, a harsh angle digging in painfully and some part of Dick’s brain processed the fact that Slade had shoved a gun inside him up to the trigger guard. His heart stopped, terror flooding through every inch of his body.

Slade could shoot him. And it… it wasn’t like Dick didn’t deserve it, but it would be a… a truly horrible way to go. At this angle, the bullet would rip through him, shredding through organs and tissue and bone and it would be horrible and messy and Dick probably wouldn’t die immediately. He’d bleed out quickly but it would be painful, so much more painful than anything he could imagine.

Or maybe he’d get lucky and die from shock.

“Let’s see if we can’t get it a little deeper…” Slade said softly, fingers tapping along the grip and causing the gun to move inside him. Dick’s legs spasmed underneath him, knees digging even harder into the rocky dirt. A finger hooked inside Dick’s ass, digging into the muscle and yanking. Dick screamed, writhing and gagging on the metal shards as he cried out, but Slade just pulled harder. His other hand pushed against the gun, moving the barrel one way inside him while Slade’s finger forced his ass to stretch even further.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the trigger guard began to push inside him and Dick gagged so hard bile rose in his throat as the stretching feeling became infinitely worse. Before had been horrible, but now Dick was literally being split apart, the barrel and the ridges and the front sight pushing against his walls on one side, and the trigger guard ripping into the muscles, tearing apart the tissue until it bled and Dick could almost smell the stench of iron.

Dick was crying by the time the gun was inside him, the grip pressing in between his cheeks, forcing his legs open.

“Don’t clench too hard.” Slade teased, slapping Dick’s ass and making him choke as pain shot through him, the gun inside him ripping against the bleeding muscle as it stretched him out, all ridges and sharp edges scraping against his walls. “Unless of course, you want to shoot yourself.”

Dick whimpered, fingers clawing helplessly at nothing but thin air. Slade trailed a finger up his back and Dick flinched, the featherlight touch sending a shiver up his spine that made his muscles contract in a pathetic attempt to get away.

Slade chuckled and Dick couldn’t escape the feeling of Slade’s gaze on him. His hand moved to cup one of Dick’s cheeks, fingers digging in hard enough to break skin. Dick whimpered, shuddering helplessly. His kneecaps were ripped to shreds and the side of his face was bleeding from digging into the ground and his hands had gone numb from lack of circulation, and Dick could barely breathe through the mouthful of metal suffocating him, and his ears were ringing loud enough to make him nauseous. But all of that paled in comparison to the gun lodged inside him like the world’s deadliest sex toy.

"Well little bird, you might be useless at everything else... but you make such a beautiful holster."


	26. Blind(folded)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 26: Blindfolded  
> Technically the prompt is "Blind" but who cares? This is more fun.

“We’re going to play a game.” Slade held up something that looked like a pile of black leather and Dick’s stomach was already sinking through the ground before he realized what it was; thick leather straps and sturdy silver rings that formed a harness, all attached to a cylindrical piece of rubber and a wide band of yet more leather.

A blindfold.

The kind that could be locked on and leave the person trapped inside it blind and mute and… and more helpless than Dick already was.

“I brought along a toy for us to play with, but don’t worry about that. The rules are very simple; there’s a key hidden somewhere in the safehouse. All you have to do to win is find it.” Slade grinned at him and Dick’s chest suddenly felt very tight and very, very cold.

“…is there really a key?”

“It wouldn’t be very sporting of me if I didn’t give you a fair chance, now would it?” Slade grinned, very obviously not answering the question. Dick stared at him, some part of him desperately hoping this was a joke. Of course it wasn’t a joke. But it wasn’t like Slade had… this wasn’t the worst thing Slade could have him do, Dick just… Dick HATED being blindfolded.

“Slade, please.” Dick hated how whiny he sounded, but begging was the only way Slade ever listened to him. He knew it was stupid to try, he knew he was just wasting Slade’s time but he just… the thought of… he relied too much on his sight. He knew he did and it was another weakness that he needed to grow beyond, but he just…

“Don’t be like that, little bird.” Slade chastised. Dick eyed the blindfold, forehead creasing. Slade crooked a single finger at him, a smirk growing on his face. Dick tried to ignore the way his heart pounded with anxiety as he closed the distance between them.

“Hold still,” Slade yanked him forward by the collar before slipping the harness over his head, the thick leather settling into place over his eyes. Dick tried to stay calm as the world turned to black, but Slade was wrapping another strap around the back of his head and tightening it, and the feeling of being trapped started to set in. And once his nerves started to light up, it was impossible to force them away. Especially when Slade’s fingers pried his mouth open and forced a rubber cylinder inside, the ends digging into his cheeks and pulling his lips back uncomfortably. He tried to pull away, but Slade’s hand caught his wrist, squeezing tight enough to bruise.

“I can assure you the game will be much more difficult to play with your hands behind your back.” Slade’s voice was practically a purr, and Dick froze. He let out a whimper to show he understood the warning and Slade released him.

Dick held still as Slade tightened the strap underneath his chin, pulling his mouth closed and practically locking his teeth in place around the bit gag. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer by the time Slade finished tightening all the straps, leaving Dick completely in the dark and totally unable to open his mouth between the bit in his mouth and the leather preventing his jaw from moving.

But it was the loud “clunk” of a heavy padlock that Dick choked on, his stomach flipping and his blood pounding in his ears with frantic desperation to escape.

“There.” Slade said, the echo of his footsteps the only way for Dick to tell he’d stepped back. “Nice and secure. Give it a try, little bird. Make sure it isn’t… too loose.”

Dick’s hands were clawing at the harness the instant Slade gave him permission. Even without the padlock sealing him inside, the straps were tight enough that he couldn’t pull them more than a millimeter to the side in any direction. And it hurt to try and tug the blindfold off for even a tiny speck of light to get through the all-consuming blackness. The straps dug into his chin, drove the bit even deeper into the corners of his mouth, and yanked on the collar around his throat until Dick couldn’t breathe.

And it was all for nothing. Dick was trapped in the dark.

“Well, off you go.” Slade’s voice came out of nowhere, somehow echoing around him from everywhere at the same time. A hand landed on the small of his back and Dick jumped as Slade pushed him forward, stumbling to catch his balance. “Happy _hunting_.”

The emphasis on the second word made Dick shiver, suddenly feeling very much like he was the one being hunted.

* * *

Dick stumbled down yet another hallway, jaw clenching around the bit when his bare foot stubbed against the doorway. His toe began to throb and Dick let out a grunt of pain, hands curling into fists to let his fingernails dig into his palms. The stinging pain distracted him, but not enough.

He stumbled through the doorway, cursing the number of obstructions he stumbled over on the way, cursing himself for how pitiful he’d become and how pathetic he was to be this helpless without his sight.

He had no idea what room he was in; he’d been wandering the safehouse for what felt like hours and he kept getting turned around and unless he was going crazy, Slade has rearranged the furniture in most of the rooms. He could have sworn this was the living room, but it should have only been six steps from the doorway to the couch and Dick hadn’t felt a single piece of furniture.

God, he was so fucking tired of this. He had no idea where to even begin looking for the stupid key; was it hanging on a wall somewhere in plain view, dangling right in front of his useless eyes so Slade could laugh at him every time he passed right by it?

Or was it on the floor somewhere for Dick to stumble over like an idiot? Did Slade want him to crawl around for it on his hands and knees, blindly searching every inch of this place?

Something grabbed him from behind, so sudden that Dick barely had time to process the hands that pushed him forwards and shoved him over the back of the couch until his feet were dangling off the ground and his head was practically hanging upside down.

“Took you long enough to get here.” Slade hummed in disappointment as he yanked Dick’s shorts down, exposing his bare ass to the ceiling. Dick’s arms scrambled for the cushions above (below?) him, trying desperately to orient himself before the way his head was spinning turned into complete vertigo. Dick might not have minded being upside down, but flipping through the air on his own power was completely different than stumbling around blindly for hours and having the world unexpectedly turned on its head. “I’ve been waiting for nearly two hours, I thought you would’ve found your way around quicker than that. You did find the key though, I’ll give you that much.”

Slade yanked at the back of his head suddenly and Dick heard a clinking sound. With horror building in his stomach, he realized that if that was the key, Slade had just pulled it off the harness anchoring the blindfold to the back of his head. Dick let out a whimper, rage building in stomach at his own DAMN STUPIDITY, furiously cursing himself for not realizing the game sooner, for stumbling around like an idiot when he’d had the fucking key the entire damn time.

But he’d found it… or at least Slade said he had. That meant it was over, Dick played the game and he’d found the key. It was over.

A hand trailed up his back (or was it down?), from the base of his neck all the way to his ass, before Slade’s thumb pressed against Dick’s raw, aching hole, still shredded from the… from the gun Slade had left inside him for hours the day before. Dick let out a scream as Slade pushed inside, biting down as hard as he could on the bit in his mouth, fingers clawing into the fabric of the couch.

“I’ll make sure to hide it better for the next round. But you’ve been playing for so long, I think we both deserve a little break…”


	27. Earthquake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 27: Earthquake
> 
> M is making progress. Slowly. Very slowly.

“North side, we got five more life signs.” Midnighter barked into the communicator, and Donna and Wally called affirmative to signal they were on it. M fought back a sigh, scrubbing a hand through his hair. The search for Dick had gone nowhere quickly, even once Kori had called all the other Titans in to help.

And that was before they’d all gotten sidetracked to rescue victims of a magnitude 7 earthquake. Midnighter knew that this was what Dick would want, that Dick would choose to save innocents over himself every single time, but that didn’t make every second spent here digging people from the rubble any less agonizing, knowing that somewhere out there, Dick was suffering.

A comet shot through the air, a streak of fire blazing through the sky and dropping gracefully to the ground next to him.

“The Batman has returned my call!” Kori practically shoved her communicator at M, relief breaking through the layer of rubble, dirt and dust she was coated in.

“Please tell me you have any leads.” Midnighter grabbed the comm, unable to control himself. The last few days had been Hell on Earth but if there was anyone who could figure out where Dick was, it was the paranoid freak of a man who’d raised him.

“Leads on what?” Batman sounded confused. “Is everything alright?”

“Are you shitting me?!” M shouted before he could stop himself. “Dick has been missing for the whole damn month!”

“I— what?” Batman asked as if he was utterly shocked at the idea.

“Dick is missing.” Kori repeated, shaking her head to stop M from giving him any other information. Midnighter frowned, but followed her lead and stayed quiet.

“What are you talking about?” Batman asked. “He’s been out of Blüdhaven but I talked to him a few days ago.”

“Are you sure it was him?”

“No one else could have given me the intel he had. There was a serial killer he’d been tracking, only he had access to the file location.” Batman responded gruffly. M frowned as his brain automatically began shuffling through the information he’d been given.

“Did you talk to him?”

“It was a text exchange. That’s standard protocol for when he’s out of town, the encryption is stronger than a voice call in an unsecured location.”

“When was this?”

“Four days ago.”

“Then that means…” Kori began, her eyes widening as realization struck her.

“He has Dick’s phone.” Midnighter said. “If we can track that, we’ll find them.”

“I’m on it.” A new voice answered over the phone, and a tiny bit of the pit inside Midnighter’s chest evaporated. Oracle was on the hunt, and there was no piece of tech in the world that could hide from her.


	28. Accidents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 28: Accidents

Slade ignored him when he walked into the living room.

Dick shivered.

Slade had promised him a quiet day and Dick knew he should be grateful. Especially after the last month, all he wanted was a quiet day to not be on edge or watching over his shoulder or overthinking every single move he made to stop himself from doing something to piss Slade off.

So a quiet day should have been good. It should have been everything Dick wanted, but he just couldn’t relax. He’d lost track of how many times he’d passed Slade and immediately tensed up, ready for the worst to come, only for Slade to ignore him completely and leave Dick feeling like a paranoid idiot.

He was ridiculous.

All he wanted was a little bit of time to breathe and now that he had it, he was too busy panicking to enjoy it.

What was wrong with him?

Dick dug his fingernails into his palms, pressing in to give himself something else to focus on rather than spiraling down that rabbit hole. He steeled himself, taking a deep breath and walking toward the table where he’d left his book a few days before.

It was his own fault. He was so focused on watching Slade, on keeping the man in view so he couldn’t sneak up on him, that he completely missed the bump in the carpet. It must have been the carpet, what else could it have been?

Because Dick tripped hard, crashing down onto the ground in front of the couch, narrowly avoiding having a chunk taken out of his shoulder by the coffee table.

Slade looked up from his tablet, one eyebrow raised as he stared down at Dick.

“Sorry.” Dick muttered, his face burning with embarrassment. How did he possibly trip? What was _wrong_ with him? He tried to push himself up, but Slade’s hand seized the top of his head, freezing him in place. Slade was scowling, face twisted with irritation that made panic blaze down Dick's spine.

“What am I going to do with you? I leave you to your own devices for an hour and you can’t go that long without causing trouble? Can you, you attention-seeking whore?”

“It was an accident! I'm sorry!” Dick protested before he could stop himself, flinching away from the grip in his hair back but Slade only tugged him closer. His other hand set down the tablet and Slade moved forward on the couch, reaching for the zipper of his pants.

“Of course it was. The great Nightwing is known for his clumsiness, after all.” Slade mocked, pulling out his cock and giving it a few strokes while dragging Dick’s head into position. “Well, while you’re here, I supposed I can come up with something for you to do.”

Dick let out a breath, the fight draining out of him and leaving him empty.

“Open up.” Slade dragged the head of his cock over Dick’s lips and he parted them immediately, relaxing his throat as Slade’s dick filled his mouth. He barely gagged as Slade tugged him forward on his knees, forcing his cock all the into his throat until Dick was practically deep-throating. “That’s a good bitch.”

Slade reached for his tablet again, and Dick closed his eyes. A sob was building deep in his chest and he forced it down, exhaustion quenching it until he couldn’t even begin to imagine where the sadness was coming from. Slade wanted him on his knees, warming his cock, and that was what Dick would do.


End file.
